Ikigai
by TheLadyIntegra
Summary: "You claimed you were not afraid of me. Clearly you lied." After the defeat of Aizen, Orihime awakens in unfamiliar surroundings only to come face to face with a man she had seen die hours before. Now at the mercy of an Espada without a purpose, Orihime will have to learn to be brave while knowing that no one is coming to save her this time. Guest starring Grimmjow.
1. Scaredy Cat

Ikigai, in the Japanese culture, is considered the reason for one's being and discovering it brings satisfaction and meaning to life. Everyone is believed to have it, though sometimes finding it can be a long and difficult journey.

Please enjoy.

**Note**: I'm doing some tinkering with each chapter, adding and cutting mostly descriptive text. Nothing plot-wise will change. I didn't want to give anyone a heart attack by taking it down to work on it, so I'm just going through it at my own pace.

**Chapter One: Scaredy Cat  
**

* * *

Orihime woke slowly, eyes fluttering open like lethargic butterflies. Her hands, one positioned on her stomach and the other on the hard surface beside her, began to twitch as if searching for her favorite comforter, wishing to stave off the chill that had caused her flesh to ripple with goosepebbles. As her blurred vision cleared, a confused frown tugged belatedly on her lips. "Pots...?" she whispered, taking in the ancient and cluttered pot rack that hung directly above her. Above it, an unfamiliar ceiling greeted her; wooden and sagging and covered in cobwebs, as if it had gone a great many years without the tender maintenance of its tenant. Warm yellow light danced about, casting long and surreal shadows. She could smell wood burning.

She stared upwards without comprehension for a long moment, absentmindedly swallowing and grimacing as her parched throat made its displeasure known with a sandpaper-like grunt. A crackling sound caused her to turn her head sluggishly, as if still covered in the thick molasses of sleep, and an involuntary groan pulled from her lips. It felt like a particularly violent dwarf had begun hammering on the back on her head, looking for hidden treasure in her brain. She peered blearily to her right, blinking at the sight of a dilapidated, but quaintly rustic kitchen. The translucent white cloth that hung limp along the wall pointed out the kitchen window, although there was nothing but darkness beyond the glass, as if the shutters were closed. She had been placed on a crude, wooden center table beneath the ominous pots and pans and, in true form, her imagination promptly convinced her that she was intended to be someone's dinner.

Panic at that thought caused her to shoot up, immediately regretting it when her head screamed a resentful chastisement at her sudden movement. A trembling hand found the back of her skull and gently probed the large, painful lump that had made itself at home. Her fingers tingled as she touched it, and her hair clung to her with the spark of static when she lowered her arm. There was something familiar about that unpleasant tingle that she struggled to place. One thing was obvious though - someone with reiatsu had attacked her. From behind too, the sneaky coward...

She twisted carefully in place to see the only source of sound and light in the room - a fire burning cheerily behind its rusted grate, its smoke being carried lazily up through the chimney. She twisted back into place and regarded the partially closed tatami sliding door beyond her curled legs. Her brow furrowed with worried contemplation.

She had absolutely no idea where she was.

Her stomach sank into a small pit of dread when she took stock of her appearance. Her once pristine white uniform, now stained with blood, sand and tears and ripped beyond repair, clung to her form like leeches on a bloated corpse, making the curve of her breasts and hips seem grotesque and obscene. The last thing she remembered clearly was embracing Ishida-kun in joy as they realized that Aizen had been defeated, and Kurosaki-kun and most everyone else had survived. After that, there were hazy impressions of panic and an attempt to flee...something.

And then a sudden pain and darkness.

A thump and what sounded like a curse of anger sounded nearby and grey eyes widened, locking on to the sliver of corridor she could see beyond the tatami door. She drew back in fear, huddled like a child and instinctively moved to touch her hairpins, needing to feel their comforting presence.

Her blood froze. Her hands groped around her forehead long after she realized that they were gone and she was powerless. Another look around told her that other than the barred and shuttered window, which would be impossible for her to squeeze through, the only way out was through that door. She heard the low murmur of voices and footsteps, and felt a vaguely familiar spiritual presence that she couldn't quite place.

Intense curiosity battled with fear until finally she called out in a tremulous voice.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

The murmuring stopped, and she clamored hastily off the center table, feeling the need for a defensible position. The wooden chairs tucked beneath the counter dug painfully into her hips and thighs as she attempted to squeeze between them while making as little noise as possible. Her boots touched the wooden floor with a muffled creak as she eased her bottom over the edge, a small cloud of dust erupting into the air from beneath them. Like a cautious deer, she watched the door with every muscle coiled and deathly still.

Footsteps were approaching.

Suddenly feeling desperate for any sort of weapon, she turned with a flurry of white cloth and hoisted herself onto one of the chairs, reaching to unhook a sturdy looking pan from the pot rack. She had just lowered herself to the ground once more, makeshift weapon held threateningly over her shoulder and a determined scowl on her face, when she felt the presence approach. The sliding door was pushed aside by long pale fingers and measured steps brought him over the threshold.

Ulquiorra Schiffer took one look at her and his frown deepened. "What do you think you're doing, woman?"

The pan fell from her hands and clattered loudly to the floor, barely heard over the thunder of her heartbeat in her ears, filling her like an ocean storm. Orihime staggered backwards, tripping on the edge of her dress and flailing onto her buttocks, gaping in shock at the man before her. She had seen ghosts before, but never quite like this. "Ulquiorra-san!" she gasped, stunned, "But how? I don't understand, I saw you..."

"Die?" the Espada finished for her, his tongue coiling around the word in an indifferent caress that nevertheless reeked of sarcasm and contempt. "Obviously not."

She swallowed thickly, curling her fists into the dusty floor. Anxiety rose within her belly to settle in her throat like a squat toad, making her pulse race in an unsteady and dizzying cadence. Not even two meters away stood the man who had ripped her from the innocence of her youth - a man who had been _quite_ dead last she'd seen him. Her eyes ran over him in blatant fascination. He looked...

Well, actually he looked slightly worse for wear. His uniform was in better condition than hers, but still far from its usual pristine standard. In fact, it looked exactly as it had before he had disappeared beyond the roof of Las Noches - torn down the front, exposing his hollow hole and his rank, tapering down over pale skin and taught muscles. Her gaze was drawn to two glaring spots of crimson on his coat's torn and jagged lapels.

_That's where Kurosaki-kun first drew his blood..._

How was it possible that he looked exactly the same? As if that battle atop the dome had never happened?

_No, look closely. He looks exhausted._

Something in his stance was off, as if he were favoring one leg over the other. His shoulders, normally stiff and square, had curved down ever so slightly. He wasn't slouching, but he was certainly more relaxed than she had ever seen him. On anyone else his posture would have appeared casual. To someone who knew him, it was obvious that he was fatigued. Confirming this were the light purple smudges that had appeared under his haggard eyes. With his already pallid skin, he looked like a walking corpse.

He was weakened, and that knowledge gave Orihime the courage to glare at him and begin demanding answers. "Where are we? How did I get here?" She made a grab for the discarded pan and aimed it at him in as menacing a manner as she could muster. "What did you do with my hairpins?"

Ulquiorra's face flickered with displeasure as his eyes narrowed. One pale hand left its usual position in his pocket and made a quick, whip-like motion. The pan shot forcefully from her fingers and smashed against the adjacent wall, eliciting a small squeak of fright. "Quiet," he said lowly, taking a few steps forward.

Orihime's eyes shot wide open in fear and she scrabbled backwards, eyeing the Espada's movements nervously from her undignified position on the floor. Ulquiorra paused at her retreat, giving her an inscrutable look. Her breath hitched when, after a long moment, he continued to close the distance between them. Perhaps threatening Ulquiorra wasn't her smartest move, weakened or no. Aizen was no longer around to prevent him from doing his worst, and with a flicker of dread she remembered the ringing slap she had given him a few days ago. Had he kidnapped her again to get vengeance? She had thought they parted on at least amicable terms when she reached out to his slowly dissolving form. His slender hand had blown away before she could reach him though...

When the same hand lowered, palm up, in front of her face, she glanced into his eyes in confusion. His cold gaze was a far cry from the understanding one he'd worn in his final moments, but still not quite hostile. Hesitantly, she wiped the dust off on her dress and placed her hand into his, shivering at the chill of his skin. A walking corpse indeed. He helped her to her feet with a firm, but tempered grip and she pondered the symbolism of their touch. So this is what it would have felt like if she had been able to grasp him back then.

For a moment they were almost nose to nose and she flushed at the proximity, able to see every shade of green in his poisonous eyes before he took a smooth step back and released her hand, returning his own to his pocket. His gaze never wavered from her face and the force of his stare only rattled her nerve.

"You claimed you were not afraid of me," he said loftily, before his lips turned down and his expression hardened. "Clearly you lied."

Orihime flinched at the cold statement before narrowing her eyes in bold rebellion. "I wasn't lying. I'm not _scared_ of you." In a weird way, she sort of wasn't. He was dangerous, but he was also _Ulquiorra_. She was like...80% sure he wouldn't do anything to hurt her, which practically made him best-friend material compared to the other Espada. For now at least. She still didn't know what he wanted. "I'm just...confused. I don't know what's going on."

"No doubt if Kurosaki Ichigo were present, you would be less '_confused_'."

He didn't believe her. Was blatantly telling her that she was a scaredy-cat without Kurosaki-kun around. She squared her shoulders, raised her chin up at him. She had faced Ulquiorra bravely before, even when Kurosaki-kun wasn't around. Although...he had been rushing to her rescue and she had no idea where he was now. Or where she was. Or what Ulquiorra wanted from her.

But it didn't matter - she didn't need Kurosaki-kun's protection to stand up for herself! He seemed to sense her belligerence, and closed his eyes, turning away. She knew that look. It was the Ulquiorra version of a scoff, a callous dismissal.

"Come," he ordered, turning to leave the room. Orihime hesitated, watching his coattails fluttered out of sight. She took one last look around at the kitchen, rubbing her hands over the chilled skin on her bared upper arms. This was certainly not Las Noches - unless she had been unconscious long enough for some serious remodeling to have occurred. She drew her lower lip into her mouth, suckling on it thoughtfully.

What on earth was going on?

Taking a deep breath, she padded out the kitchen, pausing in the short corridor. At the end to her right was a door that she suspected led outside, and to her left were two more doorways, only one of which was open. It was almost completely dark, the only light coming from the fire behind her and from the other open door, from within which she could hear scuffled movement. Nervous, but devastatingly curious, she headed towards the sound.

She had to stifle a gasp when she met the solid wall of Ulquiorra's back in the entrance, the long dark hair that trailed down his spine from beneath his mask tickling her nose. His head turned slightly until she could just make out the curve of his jaw, acknowledging her presence before stepping forward. She followed, peering around his shoulder to get a good look at the room, lit by a single, moth blanketed ceiling light. The wooden floorboards creaked loudly beneath her as she crossed the threshold. It was much the same as the kitchen, except slightly smaller and furnished with a privy and a yellow stained porcelain bathtub and sink.

Most surprising, however, was the blue haired man bleeding all over the floor.

"Grimmjow-san!" Orihime exclaimed, her voice sounding far too loud to her own ears. Immediately an icy pair of blue eyes snapped open and glared at her. The sixth Espada grit his teeth before releasing a bark of laughter that smacked of acrimony and resentment.

"So you got yourself the women too, Ulquiorra. You bastard..." He suddenly turned his head and coughed up a sizable amount of blood, his long torso visibly convulsing until he was left gasping for breath. Dark, rancorous chuckles escaped him between the blood bubbling on his lips. "A fucking shame for her then."

"Shut up," Ulquiorra said firmly, blinking down at the spreading pool of red. "You waste what remains of your energy." His eyes slid over to Orihime and once again his hand raised from his pocket. He showed her the two blue hairpins he held delicately in the palm of his hand.

"You took them!" She cried, clasping her hands to her breast to stop herself from snatching them out of his grasp.

"Yes. You will heal Grimmjow and then return them to me."

He didn't give her a chance to respond, his wicked-quick hand easily sliding her hairpins into their standard position, his dexterity allowing them to slip into place smoothly without scraping against her scalp. She barely had a chance to blink and his hand had already returned to his pocket.

"Heal only the life-threatening injury. There is no need to exert yourself further than that."

Staring at him in surprise for only a moment, Orihime obediently knelt at Grimmjow's side, calling forth her fairies and grimacing as the deep wound in his shoulder knit itself together. Grimmjow watched her silently through the golden shield, his heavily hooded eyes inscrutable.

"I find it unlikely that the boy would have had it in him to do this amount of damage," Ulquiorra commented, keeping a careful eye on Grimmjow, who scowled and turned away. Orihime didn't miss the flicker of bitterness - no, of shame - that flashed over his face. Quietly, she answered Ulquiorra's obvious inquiry.

"It was Nnoitora. He got in a cheap shot." Orihime shuddered at the memory of the gangly Espada's fingers, forcing their way into her mouth. Grimmjow's look of shock and pain as Nniotora's blade sunk into his shoulder would forever be emblazoned in her mind as one of the more terrible things she had witnessed in Hueco Mundo.

Grimmjow obviously noticed her expression of sorrow. He scowled up at her, his fists clenching. "Don't you dare pity me bitch, I'll snap your neck."

Orihime flinched back as Grimmjow began to raise his arm towards her, murder in his eyes. Ulquiorra reacted quickly, his heel coming to rest firmly on the prone man's throat. "Grimmjow," he said softly, "You will not touch her."

"Or what?" Grimmjow spat hatefully.

Ulquiorra increased the pressure on his throat until Grimmjow let out an involuntary gag, then said in a gentle murmur, "Or I will kill you." His eyes slithered back to Orihime, who was watching the display nervously. It was somewhat comforting that Ulquiorra would stop Grimmjow from hurting her, but that still didn't tell her what he wanted from her. And she disliked the threats of violence.

"That's enough," Ulquiorra commanded. Orihime shook her head.

"No - I can still heal him more, I'm not tired or anything."

Ulquiorra released Grimmjow and rounded her shield, coming to stand over her at her side. "That is irrelevant. Grimmjow will become a nuisance if he has too much energy." He said this as if referring to a disobedient pet, and for a moment Orihime feared that Grimmjow's hateful glare might _actually_ cause Ulquiorra to burst into flames. Was Ulquiorra purposefully trying to belittle the weaker man? How needlessly cruel. Her jaw set stubbornly.

When she ignored him and stared firmly ahead, his hand dropped onto her shoulder, heavy and threatening. "I said to stop."

She realized that she had little choice when she felt his fingers start applying pressure, slowly tightening their grip - not quite to the point of pain but clearly heading in that direction. She reluctantly dropped the shield and immediately pulled away, shrugging out from under him. Ulquiorra's hand slid from her shoulder as she move back and rose to her feet. Grimmjow sat up, still severely weakened and covered in injuries but no longer at risk of dying. He glared up at Ulquiorra.

"Afraid I'll destroy you if I'm at full strength?" He spat at the pale Espada's feet. "Coward."

Ulquiorra pointedly ignored him, narrowing his eyes at Orihime. "Hand them over now."

She knew exactly what he was referring to, and her hands immediately went to the sides of her head, protectively shielding her hairpins. "N-no! I won't give them to you."

Ulquiorra took a menacing step forward, his passionless gaze seeming to pull the very strength from her bones, leaving her quivering. "You will."

She shook her head frantically, knowing she looked ridiculous. "Why do you need them - I can't hurt you with them!"

"I will not make the mistake of underestimating you." He held his hand out expectantly, curling and uncurling his fingers. "Give them to me now, or I will take them by force."

The room was silent for a long moment, the atmosphere thick with tension. Orihime's eyes darted around frantically, knowing that she had no chance of making it to the door unless she blocked the others with her shield. But that wouldn't hold Ulquiorra for long, and she wouldn't be able to run fast enough. She should fight back as a matter of pride, but what would that accomplish? It might satisfy her ego to know that she hadn't given up meekly like she always did, but she had no idea what kind of damage Ulquiorra might do if she made the mistake of angering him.

He stood patiently, even Grimmjow watched her silently, waiting for her next move. To give up her only form of defense, her beloved Rikka to an Espada...But what choice did she have?

Slowly, she pulled the shimmering blue pins away, and as if in some last desperate attempt at defiance they snagged at her hair before she clutched them to her chest. "Please, don't...hurt them."

Ulquiorra was silent, unresponsive but for a twitch of his lips, and she realized that there was really nothing more she could do. Steeling her resolve not to cry, she deposited her source of power into his hands, holding her breath as his fingers gently curled over the fragile bits of metal before he placed his hand once again in his pocket.

Grimmjow chose this moment to interrupt the tense exchange. "So now you're scared of little girls too. When did you become so pathetic, Ulquiorra?"

He yelled in protest when Ulquiorra suddenly gripped his upper arm and hauled him roughly to his feet. Grimmjow staggered, face contorted in pain, and glared at the more powerful Espada with the deepest loathing. Ulquiorra began dragging him from the room, unaffected by his curses or his struggling. As he passed Orihime, he met her gaze. "Bathe. I will arrange fresh clothing."

Orihime stuttered and waved her hands, "Uh - no thank you, that's really not necessary! I'm fine, really." Was he crazy? What exactly was it about her situation that made him think she'd be okay with getting naked?

Ulquiorra's nose wrinkled ever so slightly. "You carry the stench of blood. It is unpleasant. Bathe."

Once again she realized she had little say in the matter, lest Ulquiorra threaten to strip her down and do it for her. She nodded and swallowed thickly. "O-okay. I will."

Ulquiorra left the room, still supporting the staggering Grimmjow. She watched him leave and shut the door after him, leaning her forehead against the door and releasing a shuddering breath.

She still had no idea where she was or what the Espada wanted.

Exhaling, she began to undress.

* * *

Personal Note: If Suede is reading this, you're the love of my life...

...but if you don't like my story I'm kicking you out the house.


	2. The Worst Kidnapper Ever

A/N: It occurs to me that I have the worst chapter names in the history of ever... But you guys are so sweet xD You don't even question it.

**Chapter 2: The Worst Kidnapper Ever  
**

* * *

"I'm coming in."

"Ah! No - wait!" Orihime's protests came too late as the door pushed open and Ulquiorra entered. His eyes flickered towards her as she hastily pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and hunching over in embarrassment. Her wet hair clung to her back, only the tips floating ghost-like in the filthy water.

"Ul-Ulquiorra-san!" she exclaimed, earning a prolonged glance as he set a bundle of grey and brown cloth on the toilet seat. His eyes lingered on a droplet of water slipping down her throat. "You can't just...just walk in like that! I could have been..." She blushed, trailing off uncertainly and averted her eyes. "You know..." she mumbled.

Ulquiorra straightened up, fixing her with a loaded stare. "I told you I would be bringing your clothes."

She heard the unspoken reprimand to stop making a scene, but refused to back down. "I know, but you can't just say _'I'm coming in'_," she lowered her voice in imitation of his deep baritone, "And then not even give me time to do anything about it. Then there's no point!"

His frown deepened after her impression of him. "Do not mock me." That seemed to be all he was interested in saying on the issue before he stepped towards her. Orihime pushed herself further into the water, eyes widening. Immediately, he halted his approach, studying her carefully. Orihime was unable to stop her trembling and goosebumps erupted over her exposed skin.

There was your normal, everyday nervousness when dealing with Ulquiorra - the kind of nervousness that only a very impressive kind of person could get away with not feeling. And then there was _this_. As if with every second he looked at her she became more and more aware of her naked flesh, half convinced that he could see right through to her insides. She lowered her gaze, thoroughly intimidated, as she always was when he stared at her for so long. No one else in her life had ever looked at her like that - as if she was utterly and completely the center of attention.

God, she had never ever been naked in front of a boy before other than her brother and now for it to be _Ulquiorra_ of all people...

Once again, she had the urge to bombard him with questions - why was she there? How was he alive? What did he _want_? But it certainly wasn't the right time or place for that. To think before she'd woken up she'd been with Ishida-kun, happier than she'd been in a long time, and now she was naked in a bath tub with a man that made Bykuya-san seem warm and approachable.

_Ohhhh_, If he stood there for much longer looking at her like that it wouldn't matter _what_ he wanted her for, she'd die of embarrassment.

"It seems you are _confused_ again."

Orihime blinked, meeting his green eyes with a puzzled frown. "Wha-?" Her bewilderment cleared as she picked up on his sarcasm, referencing their earlier conversation. She huffed, doing her best to ease the undoubtedly stressed look on her face. "I'm not _afraid_. I...I'm _uncomfortable_."

She realized immediately how lame that sounded, and he obviously agreed judging by his unimpressed silence.

"Well how am I supposed to feel with you looking at me like that?" she asked more loudly than she than intended, her blush of embarrassment slowly deepening into one of anger. "Are you _trying_ to be scary on purpose?"

Orihime held his gaze defiantly, silently daring him to answer her. There was a tense moment in which she could only imagine what he was thinking as he looked at her.

And then his eyes drifted away. "...Ridiculous," he said rather vaguely, before turning on his heel and exiting without another word.

The moment the door closed behind him, Orihime slumped back into the tub and let out a loud, embarrassed groan, only realizing a second too late that Ulquiorra must have heard it.

This _was_ ridiculous. How on earth was she supposed to keep up with his weird mood swings? He'd seemed so understanding and peaceful and _sad _in his final moments. She had been undeniably dismayed by his death. He had been an enemy, there had been no choice but to fight him. But that hadn't made it any less tragic to see someone so obviously confused and struggling to understand human emotions pass away.

But all of _that_ had seemingly disappeared around the same time he had. There was no gentle acceptance in his cold eyes now. Maybe there never had been and she'd imagined it? Orihime rose from the tub, wrapping herself in the towel hanging on a wooden rail on the wall. All she knew was that he'd seemingly returned to his old habit of looking at her as if she were the most infuriating puzzle in the world.

Oh, it was nothing she would have noticed if she weren't the one being subjected to it. She knew she was no warrior, and certainly had no useful skills when it came to _important _things like protecting her friends and fighting in wars. But Inoue Orihime also knew that she had an observational gift when it came to people and their behavior. Perhaps Ulquiorra might have remained a mystery to her despite this, but certainly not now that he was targeting her for...something or other.

It was in the way his eyes pinned her in place, the subtle movements in his face as he observed her, the way he always seemed slightly restless in her presence, moving around a lot, unable to stand still. As if he just wanted to pace around her, circle her like a predator.

She felt it in the air whenever he was close to her, ever since the day she had sworn her fealty to Aizen-sama. An unnerving amount of..._intent._

It was almost funny - a mere human teenager being a source of so much frustration to a powerful, aloof guy like Ulquiorra. Almost.

Because if for whatever reason he decided that he _couldn't _solve her...

He'd probably break her.

* * *

Uryuu did not like his current predicament. Not one bit.

Gathered together in the Captain's Assembly Hall were several major participants in the war against Aizen Sousuke, some of them still covered in a fair amount of blood and dirt. The situation was serious enough to postpone healing any non-lethal injuries, and only Captain Unohana and Captain Hitsugaya were notably absent. Rangiku stood in her captain's place, looking pale and haggard, her eyes still red and puffy, face stained with tears.

And the atmosphere was only getting more unhappy by the minute.

"Ishida Uryuu," came the gravelly old voice of Captain-Commander Yamamoto, whom Uryuu stood before, "Based on the evidence at hand, it is clear that Inoue Orihime is indeed the traitor we suspected her to be."

"She is not!" he protested, taking an angered step towards the aged man, though he really should have seen this reaction coming. Around him, the assembled members of Sereitei seemed to grimace in unison, every person who had ever had any contact with Orihime immediately disliking the pronouncement. "Inoue-san was kidnapped again, it's the only explanation!"

Uryuu caught Renji and Rukia sharing a silent look, both of them clearly only remaining silent due to the stoic presence of the sixth squad captain, standing calmly between them. Uryuu grit his teeth, but shook his head slightly at the female Kuchiki, watching her settle reluctantly in place. There was no need for those two to be making a scene now, he knew they would have his back if worse came to worst.

"You have said nothing that would support that statement. By your own words, you were struck from behind and rendered unconscious. You have already said that the girl was not in your line of sight at the time."

Uryuu immediately returned his attention to the elder Shinigami, forcing himself to remain calm. He performed the familiar gesture of pushing his glasses further up his nose, taking a soft breath before answering. "I never implied that she was the one who attacked me - I only said that I didn't see what happened to her."

"But you _did_ say that you felt no threats in the area at the time of the attack," Captain Ukitate interjected mildly.

Uryuu hesitated, nervous that even the kindly captain of the thirteenth division seemed willing to use his own words against him. "That means nothing - anyone could have masked their reiatsu and snuck up on us."

"Do you know why you would have felt no threats, boy?" Yamamoto asked.

Ishida had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer the Captain Commander intended to give.

"Because there _were _no threats - none that you perceived as threats in any case. All of Aizen's army have already been accounted for."

"Based on whose information?" Uryuu growled.

Yamamoto conveniently ignored his question, instead firing back one of his own. "If you do indeed believe that Inoue Orihime was kidnapped once again, who do you suggest was responsible? Did any Arrancar take excessive interest in her?"

Uryuu shuddered, several faces flashing before his eyes. "There were one or two, yes. But they're all dead now."

"I see."

Uryuu scowled, clearly seeing where the old man was going. "That doesn't mean she wasn't taken by someone else. Inoue-san...there's no way she would have sided with them. They tormented her. As soon as Aizen gave word that she was no longer useful, she was attacked." He hesitated. "And...and there's no way she would have attacked me, either. Inoue-san barely defends herself, even when her life is in danger, because she hates the thought of hurting another person so much. The thought that she would have attacked me...it's ridiculous to even contemplate!"

Yamamoto was silent for a long moment, before he gave a grave sigh. "I am sympathetic to your situation, boy. It was not so long ago that we of Seireitei found ourselves with a betrayal so unlikely, it too seemed laughable."

"This is nothing like that! Inoue-san...she's a genuinely good person - anyone who's ever spent time with her could attest to that!"

"Hinamori Momo once said something very similar about Aizen, her beloved Captain. Do you know what he did to her, boy?"

Uryuu reluctantly shook his head.

"He impaled her and left her for dead."

The Quincy swallowed heavily. "That's a sad story, but it means nothing. Inoue-san never tried to kill me."

Soi-Fon seemed to have reached her limit.

"Exactly!" she hissed, "Who else, ignorant child, who else in Hueco Mundo would have left you unconscious and alive? Who else would have had you at their mercy and not killed you were you lay?"

Uryuu's well of logic and reason had run dry. He felt himself grinding his teeth. "What is your motivation? Why won't you just believe that she was kidnapped?"

"Motivation?" Soi Fon glared at the young man, "Watch your tongue. The protection of Soul Society is Soutaichou's only-"

"Liar," Uryuu stated with a calm he did not truly feel. "If Inoue-san is a traitor, you and that freak show scientist of yours get to do whatever you want to her."

"Tch. Foolish Quincy," Mayuri said with a scoff, "I saved your life. Show some respect."

"As if that would make me forget..." Uryuu seethed, turning his head to glare at the golden-eyed scientist, "That you're the one who killed-"

"Ah, Quincy-san, is now really the time to be getting off topic?" It was the brown-haired captain in the pink haori that spoke up, clearly seeking to diffuse the situation. Uryuu took a deep breath. The man had a point. Once people began speaking about who killed who...things would get a lot more messy than they needed to be.

"Tell me," he began, narrowing his eyes once more on the eldest Shinigami, "Do you intend to take advantage of Kurosaki's current state?"

Yamamoto's aged face crinkled into a frown. "Kurosaki Ichigo has done Soul Society a great service. But," and here the Captain-Commander sent him a particularly stern look, "He is no longer in any condition to be making decisions."

"And yet you know damn well what his decision would be," Uryuu responded with a humorless smile, "And you know that he has friends - powerful friends - who know what it would be too. Some of them are in your ranks. I would caution you against making a hasty decision that will cause the events of Kuchiki-san's execution sentence to repeat themselves."

"Is that a threat?" Yamamoto asked, sounding almost weary.

"To those who are of the mind to see it, a warning and a threat are very different things. Consider this a warning. If you choose to handle this unwisely, there will be repercussions. And Seireitei is in no position to be handling any more drama."

Silence reigned for a long moment. And then Rukia's discipline went up in flames and she sent her older brother a long, pleading look. "Nii-sama..."

Had Kuchiki Byakuya been the kind of man who sighed, he looked like he might have done just that. But, perhaps due to Rukia's almost strategically timed plea right after Uryuu had mentioned her almost-execution, the noble instead stepped forward, meeting his commander's gaze evenly. "Soutaichou. Regardless of the girl's allegiance, surely her companions can handle such a small matter. Seireitei has more important things to do than meddle in human affairs." He sounded like he truthfully believed this.

Uryuu thanked whatever deity was out there for brotherly love. He would have bet his sewing kit that Byakuya gave less than a rats arse about Inoue-san. But at the request of his sister he had clearly, in his own politically-correct manner, declared which side he would fall on in this issue. He glanced around. Surely there were more who could help settle this in his favor. He locked eyes with Zaraki Kenpachi. Hadn't he once carried Inoue-san around on his back? As unnerving as the thought was, there perhaps, he might have an ally.

"Zaraki-taichou," he inquired. He needn't have said anymore, for the menacing Shinigami simply shrugged carelessly.

"Ichigo went out of his way to save that woman. Even if we found her guilty, we'd be his enemies if we tried to do anything about it." For a brief moment, Kenpachi's eyes lit up with excitement. "I wouldn't mind being on the end of his sword again, but..." He eyed those around him. "Something tells me I'd be the only one."

"Hoo boy, you've got that right," Kyoraku said with a slight smile.

"The fact still remains that she is a threat," Soi Fon said, "The nature of her powers could be very problematic if she is indeed siding with Aizen."

"Then allow me to offer a compromise." Uryuu stepped forward, addressing the room at large. "We won't ask for your assistance in finding Inoue-san, although we would appreciate it. You can be free to gather evidence on her all you like. The only condition will be that should you find her, or any information about her, you immediately inform us." His blue eyes flashed. "If you find enough to implicate her, I insist that you allow us to deal with it."

"Are we supposed to believe that you will be capable of dealing with her as a traitor?" Mayuri asked with a clear note of disdain, "Don't make me laugh."

Ishida scowled at the mere sound of his voice.

"Inoue-san is a human. She doesn't fall under your jurisdiction in any event. We will deal with her with _human_ justice, not the warped monstrosity you people endorse."

Kyoraku waved a hand and chuckled slightly. "Well, insults aside, that sounds pretty reasonable to me. What do you say, Yama-jii?"

The eldest Shinigami was quiet for a moment, clearly considering what had been said. Uryuu knew what must have been running through his mind - Inoue-san was a treasured companion of the war hero Kurosaki Ichigo, whom, despite his current state, held far too much loyalty from the within the Gotei thirteen, as well as the Vizards, to cross without serious thought. There were those who would fight for Inoue-san on a personal level, but there were many more who would fight for her because of Ichigo or other loyalties. Picking a fight with those people would be the last thing Soul Society should want just then.

Uryuu knew the exact moment the ancient Captain gave in, his stooped shoulders seeming just a little more hunched. "Very well," he stated, "We shall refrain from declaring the girl a traitor until we have more information, all of which shall be filtered through to you humans." Yamamoto huffed. "I assumed we will be in contact with you through Urahara Kisuke." Clearly the thought annoyed him.

Uryuu nodded, not allowing the immense relief he felt to show on his face. "We'll be in touch." With one last glance at Rukia and Renji, he turned to leave, aware of the blatant disrespect he showed as he did so without a word. He didn't care. He would never be comfortable in a room full of Shinigami.

* * *

Had anyone stepped out into the corridor, they would have been met with the ridiculous sight of a fully clothed Inoue Orihime, tentatively poking her head - still wrapped in a worn looking blue towel - out of the bathroom door, wide grey eyes searching the dark for any signs of her captor. Seeing how no one appeared, she seemed to settle slightly, stepping out of the steam filled room.

The bath had been more pleasant than expected. She hadn't realized just _how much_ blood and dirt had been clinging to her skin. Her uniform had been _peeled _off more than anything else.

The drab grey kimono she now wore was far less extravagant than her tattered white uniform, but also thicker and warmer. The house they were in was more than a little chilly, and the extra layers of cloth helped keep the cold at bay and made her feel more secure, less like her body was on display.

She pondered where to go next, giving what she suspected was the front door a longing look. Ulquiorra was nowhere in sight, but if she concentrated she could sense his and Grimmjow's reiatsu across the hall, behind the closed door she hadn't been inside yet. She wondered what they were doing, a corny line from one of her favorite horror movies flickering through her mind; _'It's quiet..._too _quiet._'

There was nothing to suggest that the two Espada were silently engaged in a battle to the death but maybe...if they had each other distracted, she could get a peek outside? The bathroom windows had been - rather ominously - boarded over from the outside, and only a slight whistling indicated that any air got in or out at all.

She wouldn't run away or anything, certainly not while Ulquiorra had her Rikka held hostage. Silently, she wondered if that had been his motivation more than anything to do with 'not underestimating her'. She was unaware of the childish scowl that crossed her face at the thought. He was always manipulating her.

Well whatever his reasoning, he couldn't keep her in the dark forever just because he had her powers. If she was really all alone with such dangerous people, it would be up to _her _figure her way out of the situation herself!

...Or maybe she was just trying to psych herself up into doing something stupid. Orihime deflated slightly.

Well, what else could she do? Knock on the door she knew Ulquiorra was in? Quietly go back to the room she was in before? Come to think of it...why had Ulquiorra dumped her in the kitchen anyway? Her eyes widened. He'd better not be trying to pull some weird beauty and the beast thing. The house was no castle but it _did_ look like it could use a good dusting.

She shook her head. Real life, she had learned, was far more sinister. And so was Ulquiorra. Whatever her purpose here was, she doubted it had anything to do with housekeeping.

She made up her mind with a stern nod. She was going to find out just where the hell she was, whether _he_ wanted to tell her or not.

Orihime had never before made a concerted effort to 'tip-toe', but she figured that there couldn't possibly be a better reason to try. The socks Ulquiorra had given her were thick and soft, helping to muffle her cautious steps. She braced one hand against the wall, using it to balance her as she snuck over the treacherously squeaky wooden floor. She furrowed her brow in concentration as she moved along, freezing in place for a good thirty seconds when a misstep caused a loud creak. She peered nervously over her shoulder, half expecting an angry Espada to burst through the door.

When she finally reached the front door she used a quivering hand to push it open, surprised to find that it wasn't locked.

Orihime stepped out onto a beautiful white landscape, and for a brief moment her heart leapt into her throat. It had seemed - if only for the second it took her eyes to adjust to the light- as if she were still in Hueco Mundo. She moved further away from the house, gazing around in awe. Mountains surrounded her, covered in glistening white snow and thousands of trees, many without leaves. Judging by the light, it was early morning. She shivered, clutching her new outfit to her and was immediately grateful that she was no longer in her ruined Arrancar uniform.

She exhaled slowly, watching the cloud of air form in front of her. Wherever they were, it wasn't _there_. That at least, was something to be grateful for. The atmosphere alone told her that she was in the living world - she was home. She breathed in deeply, the scent of pine and damp soil. The small house behind her had clearly been abandoned for a long time, judging by their surroundings. A few meters away there was a pile of neatly chopped wood that had become overgrown, a rusty axe blinking at her from beneath the leaves.

She felt a biting cold begin to pierce her socks, gasping in dismay as she realized they were getting wet.

"What are you doing?"

Orihime spun around, cheeks flushing. Ulquiorra stood a few steps away from the open doorway, pale skin almost blending with the snow. She immediately saw his eyes flicker up at the towel wrapped around her head, keeping her wet hair contained. She realized she must have looked slightly silly.

"...I just wanted to see outside."

She knew he was probably unhappy that she had left without permission. His stony expression didn't change at her explanation.

She placed a hand sheepishly behind her head, a nervous giggle falling from her. "I mean, ehehe, you don't really think I'd try to escape with a towel on my head, do you?"

He seemed to consider this for a moment and she caught his head tilting ever so slightly to the side as he regarded her. After a moment he said, "On the contrary, I believe you capable of all manner of foolishness."

Orihime winced internally. Ouch.

"Uh, okay, but I wasn't going to run or anything. It's just that the windows in the bathroom were boarded over and you wouldn't tell me when I asked so I figured I would go see for myself." She glanced around. "I still don't know where we are though...?"

"Northern Japan." Ulquiorra replied evenly, causing Orihime's eyes to widen in delight. "But don't get attached. We won't be staying here for long."

She frowned. "We won't? Why? Where are we going?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Orihime's jaw fell open and she gaped stupidly. "Wha- you don't even know?"

Ulquiorra didn't seem bothered by her incredulity. "We will be making a brief return to Hueco Mundo. I have some business to take care of there. After that, I will have to find a new destination in the human world where no one will search for us."

She lowered her head, staring at the snow and her now completely soaked socks in confusion. "I don't understand. Do you even have a reason for taking me? Why are you doing this?"

"Why does it matter?"

She gasped in disbelief, knowing full well that she was looking at him as if he were insane. "Why does it matter? It just does! If you don't have a reason for taking me and you don't even know where we're going then you...you!" She had no idea how to finish. Instead she stepped towards the unfazed Espada, glared up at him and jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest, barely aware of how his skin jerked beneath her. "Then you're officially the worst kidnapper ever!"

Ulquiorra seemed mildly perturbed by this accusation and easily caught her hand in his, refusing to release her even after she paled and tried to step away from him. "What are you talking about, woman? I have successfully removed you from your friends and secured you in my grasp." As if to make his point, his eyes rolled down to where he had her hand gripped firmly in his own, his fingers pressed into her palm. "What more is there to it?"

Orihime realized she was trembling, not quite sure how she had allowed herself to forget just who she was speaking to. Ulquiorra could crush the bones in her hands with no effort and hardly a second thought. Her eyes widened as the pad of his thumb brushed lightly over the back of her hand. "And besides," he added softly, as an afterthought, "I never said I had no reason for taking you."

She whimpered, unable to stop herself as the stress of her situation caught up to her. His eyes snapped up to hers at the sound, green depths unfathomable. "So," he murmured, "Which are you now? Confused...or uncomfortable?"

She averted her eyes, trying to calm the shaking of her hand where Ulquiorra held it to his chest. "Both. But I'm not afraid."

A single, slender finger dipped under her chin, curling lightly into her jaw and forcing her to look up at him, which she did with wide eyes, surprised at the unprecedented initiation of such intimate touch. "And tell me..." he began slowly, green orbs flickering over her face - in search of what she knew not. "If I were to break this hand," his fingers tightened their grip, almost - but not quite - painfully. "Would you be afraid then?"

Orihime felt her breath hitch in her throat, knew he could no doubt feel her pulse racing. The air between them felt electrified, and she realized that somehow they had been drawn closer together. She could feel the warmth from his body, a presence that felt so _human_, so _normal_ and yet _wasn't_. His hair had fallen over his shoulder around his neck as he leaned over her. He was close enough that she could count the lashes around his eyes. There was an odd sensation in her stomach, as if a ball of nerves were causing all of her insides to clench. Would she be afraid if he followed through with his threat?

"Yes," she breathed, unable to look away, entire body suddenly incredibly hot at the confession. Ulquiorra's face flashed with an expression that she couldn't decipher.

"I see," he said. She wondered if he did. They were frozen in place like that for a moment, faces inches apart.

And then he suddenly released her and took a step back, his absence causing an icy chill to invade the space he had just occupied. Her hands curled into her chest and she watched him retreat, gaze alarmed and wary. He turned, watching her from the corner of his eye.

"Come back inside now. It's too cold for a human out here."

Orihime followed him into the house without another word, unable to shake the though that, on the contrary, she felt a bit too warm.

And...she was still wearing a towel on her head.

* * *

A/N: Man oh man...steamy.


	3. Utopia

**Utopia:**

* * *

Grimmjow had been drifting in and out of consciousness. The princess had probably saved his life, but she hadn't restored all the energy he'd lost trying to keep himself from dying all that time in Hueco Mundo. His reserves were completely drained, and he was pretty sure he had never in his life been more weak and vulnerable.

Ulquiorra had dragged him none-too-gently into this shitty little room and shoved him almost violently onto the creaky, stained bed in the corner. Grimmjow couldn't remember the pale bastard ever getting this physical with anyone like that before, and his only consolation was that he had probably pissed him off when he'd trapped him with the caja de negacion. His face was still just as dull and _infuriating _as before, but judging by the way he was yanking him around like a bad dog, the oh-so-calm-and-collected-suck-up-_bitchspada _was feeling a bit _temperamental. _

And given how Grimmjow barely had the energy to walk, he was going to count getting under Ulquiorra's pasty-white skin as a _win_. It was nice to know that even though he couldn't protect himself for shit, he could still annoy Ulquiorra at least half as much as Ulquiorra annoyed him.

And so he had forced himself to smirk, even whilst being manhandled by those white hands, giving the green eyed freak the most unfazed look he could manage. "Are you sure you wanna get my blood all over these sheets?" he had asked casually as Ulquiorra stood over him. The fourth gave him a questioning look and Grimmjow leered. "I figure you'll be pounding that little princess into them sooner or later."

Ulquiorra's eyes had narrowed. "Excuse me?" he said dangerously. Grimmjow let out a bark of laughter that tore painfully through his chest, but he paid that no mind.

"What, you think I haven't noticed the way you look at her? Tche." Grimmjow scoffed. " Aizen's gone and you've got her all to yourself now. So..." He returned Ulquiorra's narrow gaze in challenge. "I expect you'll have her face down beneath you in no time."

He sensed Ulquiorra's reiatsu beginning to leak out from his perfectly mastered control, half-shocked that his words had elicited any response whatsoever. He gave the man above him his most psychotic grin, thoughts racing as he considered how best to incense the Espada he had hated more and more every day since he'd first met him.

"I'll admit, I had my doubts about you. Seemed like Aizen had created some sort of walking statue to run his damn errands. You acted like you were better than the rest of us for fucking and fighting, and yet here you are, kidnapping teenage girls. You gonna make her scream for you?" He laughed loudly as Ulquiorra's eyes widened. "Don't get your hopes up that she'll tough it out like a brave little girl, she'll be in tears before her clothes are even off, _begging_ you to let her go, _begging_ you not to hurt her. And you-"

Grimmjow choked as his air supply was suddenly cut of, Ulquiorra's long fingers digging mercilessly into his throat. He had stared up into at the fourth Espada, supremely satisfied to see the rage simmering in those green eyes he hated so damn much. Even as Ulquiorra's lips had curled slightly to reveal clenched teeth, he had grinned, relishing that he could provoke such a strong reaction. When had Ulquiorra become so damn emotional?

He honestly hadn't given much thought to the things he had said, mostly just going ahead and saying whatever came to mind to get a reaction he had only half-expected to receive. And yet there Ulquiorra was, going ahead and strangling him for saying some nasty things about him and the little princess. Perhaps his words had hit a bit closer to home than he had thought.

How fucking hilarious. The most indifferent, cold-hearted son of a bitch out of them all had gone and got the hots for some annoying little human. How truly pathetic.

"What I do with her is none of your concern." Ulquiorra somehow _still_ managed to sound dull and unimpressed, even though his fingers were digging into his windpipe like he wanted to tear it out. "You will keep your vulgar thoughts to yourself from now on, particularly in front of the woman. If I catch you trying to frighten her..."

Sadly, the rest of Ulquiorra's no doubt _terrifying_ speech was cut off as he had lost consciousness at that point. He had woken up a couple of times since then. Ulquiorra had left and returned at some point, leaning against the wall adjacent to the door, eyes closed. The fourth had just barely begun to glance in his direction, somehow sensing his gaze, before Grimmjow had passed out again.

It wasn't his injuries weakening him like this he knew, but rather his complete and utter lack of reiatsu. Like a tank on empty, his injuries could heal, but his fighting power would take longer to return if that woman didn't work her magic some more.

He had never hated someone more than he did Ulquiorra at that moment. Everything about the guy set him on edge, made his blood boil. He had deliberately stopped the princess from healing him just to keep him in line - for _what_ reason he had no idea. Even Kurosaki had been less infuriating.

And yet both of them, Ulquiorra, and that orange haired twat...both of them had done something utterly unforgivable.

They had saved his life.

* * *

"Ulquiorra-san, can I ask you something?"

Orihime leaned over the tub, replacing the wet towel in its place on the rail and letting her hair hang in limp, damp stands over her shoulders. As if to further emphasize the tragic absence of her Shun Shun Rika, her bangs fell into her face. She took advantage of this to partly hide her somber expression as she turned back to her captor, standing with his hands in his pockets behind her. He somehow still managed to look intimidating even though he was a few feet away from a toilet.

"You may," he said monotonously, though there was the barest hint of curiosity shining through his words. Orihime hesitated, the question she had been putting off for so long rattling around inside her. She wasn't sure she could handle hearing the answer.

In an attempt to distract herself, she sat down on the edge of the tub, lifting each foot up in a rather unlady-like manner to remove her wet socks. Ulquiorra watched her patiently as she fidgeted with the damp cloth, the look on his face indicating that he really didn't care if she asked or not, he would still stare at her in silence for as long as she continued to sit there.

She cleared her throat, steeling her nerves. No matter what he said now, she would have to maintain her resolve. She couldn't cry in front of him. She couldn't break down.

The only reaction she might allow would be another hearty slap to his face. Depending on his answer, she really wouldn't care what he did to her afterwards.

"Is...Did you..." She shook her head, clenching her fists, abusing and stretching the socks in her hands with a vengeance. She had to get this out of the way now. And she couldn't mumble it into her lap. She raised her eyes to his, noting the way he studied her nervousness and fidgeting with a mild display of interest. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and settling her hands peacefully on her legs, not without some difficulty. She had to know. "Is Ishida-kun...aliv-" She choked, swallowed thickly, gave her resolve a hard kick. "Is Ishida-kun alright? Did you hurt him?"

Whatever it had been in Ulquiorra's expression that had made her think he was interested vanished without a trace, and she couldn't shake the thought that he suddenly looked incredibly _bored_ with her, as if she had raised his hopes and then disappointed him. As if she had failed some weird test that only he knew about. He closed his eyes and turned away. "He is fine. I saw no reason to end his life."

And it was like all her breath returned to her, and the small bundle of nerves she had unknowingly been carrying around with her dispersed. She was unable to hold back a sigh of relief, slumping as if all her bones were sighing with her. Her trembling hands locked together in her lap. Thank god Ishida-kun was alright. That meant that, from when she had last sensed them all, everyone she loved was alive and well.

"Why does this information effect you so much? It does nothing to change your situation. Your life is still in my hands."

She shivered at Ulquiorra's cold, undoubtedly annoyed words. The irate Espada was now glaring at her through the corner of one green eye, and she did her best to give him a smile, though she knew it must have looked pitying. It was sad - after everything, he still didn't get it. "Because I don't care what happens to me, Ulquiorra-san. My heart is with them. So long as they are safe, I will be happy."

A movement on the side of his hakama caught her eye, and Orihime got the disturbing impression that Ulquiorra had just _flexed _his fingers in a physical manifestation of his frustration. That couldn't be a good sign.

"Idiot. Even now, where there is no one to impress with your selflessness, you would let your life come second to the safety of others? Those are not the instincts of any creature who wishes to survive in this world."

Orihime shrugged, aware that she was treading on dangerous ground by brushing him off but also unable to refrain from speaking her mind when he was so clearly _wrong_. "People evolved past the need to prioritize themselves a long time ago. Society would never have come as far as it has if everyone did that." She sighed wistfully. "If everyone in the world put others first, we would live in utopia. There would be no need for survival instincts anymore because no one would be in danger. Do you see what I'm saying?"

She studied his profile hopefully and managed not to flinch when he turned his head towards her and responded, his eyes unfriendly and his tone glacial. "Those are the naive sentiments of someone who has no true appreciation for reality. If you apply ideologies that require the rest of the world's co-operation you will be very disappointed with the result, woman. You do not live in this 'utopia'. Behaving as if you do will get you killed."

Orihime mulled over his words for a long moment, aware that Ulquiorra was waiting for her to lower her head in submission and accept his harsh words. Instead she frowned intently and asked another question that had been crawling around in her mind, and which she was fairly certain would throw him off his argumentative horse. "Are _you_ going to kill me, Ulquiorra-san?"

As expected, his response was a noticeable stiffening of his shoulders and a slight widening of his eyes. He stared at her in what had to have been the _loudest_ silence Orihime had ever experienced. If her suspicions were correct, he would try to evade the question altogether.

"You miss the point," he answered with far more calm than his posture suggested he had. Orihime smiled, inwardly giving herself a thumbs up that she had predicted Ulquiorra's reaction.

"No, I don't. You're saying that my feelings should have more to do with reality. So what _is_ my reality then?" She blinked up at him innocently. "Are you going to kill me or not?"

There was yet another long silence. Orihime had to resist a satisfied grin, not wanting to push her luck with the frosty Espada, especially when he was giving her _that_ look.

"If you _were_, you would have just said yes. So, since you're not going to, at least for now, and since you won't let Grimmjow-san hurt me, I'd say my reality is pretty safe right now and I can think whatever I want." She rested her hands on either side of her, gripping the tub and leaning backwards, eyes clearly narrowed at him in triumph. It wasn't often that she got to beat someone in an argument because she had never been an argumentative person. Only Ulquiorra made her feel this weird competitive urge to be _right_.

Perhaps because he actively challenged her beliefs and philosophies every time they spoke.

Ulquiorra observed her for a moment before saying rather ominously, "You make a lot of assumptions. Another habit that will get you killed."

Orihime's high wavered and she pouted. It wasn't fair that he could get the last word by saying something vague like that just to scare her. He was playing dirty.

But before she could respond he had already turned around and crossed over to the door, his coat tails whipping around the corner into the corridor. Orihime stared at the doorway huffily, for the first time feeling the urge to chase after someone and pick a fight.

He was such a _bully_. _He_ was the one who knew nothing about the world. Did he think she was some pampered princess who had never experienced the pain life could offer? She could still remember her mother screaming at her, calling her filthy names when she stole her makeup and used half of it with the result of making her four-year-old self look like a clown. She could remember her father breaking her arm for throwing up on the carpet. Those girls at school punching and kicking and tugging, cutting her hair, calling her things that made her feel hideous and worthless. Having her brother die after their last conversation that had contained some of the nastiest things she had ever said. She had been so upset after her day at school, and he had only wanted to cheer her up, but she had taken it out on him and then he had _died_. And years later, when she had spent the majority of her life seeing a heartless monster every time she looked in the mirror, that same brother had come back and tried to kill her.

And that was before she had ever been to Soul Society or Hueco Mundo, where she had been threatened and beaten and psychologically abused by _him_, the heartless Espada who even now carried with him so nonchalantly the most precious gift she had ever received. And he thought that just because she found reasons to smile and be happy she didn't understand the world. He was the one who-! Who...

Who...

And then Orihime's growing hot rage was slowly doused in an icy wave of pity. Someone like her, who had been hurt so many times, could still find reasons to smile...and he couldn't.

The grey eyes that had moments ago contained fury now softened on the empty doorway. Tatsuki-chan had told her something once. The karate champion had chased away yet another group of hostile girls, and had begun rubbing Orihime's back as she sobbed. Tatsuki-chan had stared after the girls retreating backs and said; _"You know Orihime, I'll tell you a secret that might make you feel better." _Orihime had looked up at her with wet, puffy, curious eyes.

She had applied Tatsuki-chan's secret so many times since then. Most recently with those two unforgettable Arrancar girls back at Hueco Mundo, who had looked at her with so much hatred and jealousy she had been powerless to do anything else.

_"There's no one in this world more deserving of your pity than a bully."_

* * *

Urahara looked up as the shoji screen door slid open, revealing a rather grim looking bespectacled young man. He grinned pleasantly in greeting.

"Ishida-san, back so soon! I had no idea you were so fond of my patient."

Ignoring him completely, as people were wont to do with most of Urahara's babbling, Uryuu looked down at the comatose Ichigo on the floor and asked, "How is he?"

Urahara raised his fan to his face, only his somber eyes peering out from the shadow of his hat visible. "The same. We can expect his recovery to take some time, Ishida-san. But I think you know that. So why are you really here?"

Uryuu stepped further into the room, moving to shut the sliding door behind him before a deep voice barked up at him from the ground. "Not so fast, Uryuu!"

Uryuu glanced down at the amber eyed black cat that sauntered into the room, taking a seat beside Urahara.

"Yoruichi-san! You've been avoiding me all morning and yet here you are, gracing me with your wonderful presence just as Ishida-san arrives. I'm hurt!"

The cat seemed to be grinning. "I figured he might have something interesting to say since he ran off to Soul Society as soon as he got out of the garganta." She turned disdainful eyes on the candy salesman. "And I wasn't avoiding you, Kisuke. I have better things to do, you know."

"Ah, of course, of course, birds to catch, dogs to chase, I understand completely Yoruichi-san!"

The cat smirked. "Yeah."

The door sliding shut caused the friends to once again turn their attention to Uryuu, who took a seat on the other side of Ichigo as if he were some morbid coffee table.

"Inoue-san has been taken again," he said, not bothering to beat about the bush.

Twin expressions of shock graced Urahara and Yoruichi's faces.

"Taken?" Urahara murmured.

"Where? By whom?" Yoruichi demanded.

Uryuu shook his head. "I have no idea. So far I've just barely managed to convince Soul Society not to publicly brand her a traitor and to keep us updated on their investigation. I told them that if they find her they'll have to hand her over to us, but as to whether they'll comply..." he pushed his glasses up his nose. "Well, I'm dubious."

The cat and the candy salesman shared a look. "How did her abduction come about?" Urahara asked. Uryuu shifted uncomfortably.

"Under some very suspicious circumstances, I'll admit. I was knocked unconscious from behind. Inoue-san was behind me at the time, and I didn't sense anyone else around. When I woke up she was gone."

"Hmmm." Urahara slammed his fan shut on his palm. "That is a rather unfortunate set of facts, Ishida-san. I take it you told Soul Society the same story?"

"What was I supposed to do? Make something else up randomly?"

Urahara sighed. "I wouldn't expect you to do such a thing, but it probably would have been for the best. The Soul Society is not known for their understanding nature. I'm surprised you even got as much out of them as you did."

"I had to name-drop Kurosaki more than once," Uryuu admitted "And I may have implied some things about you two and the Vizards."

Yoruichi chuckled. "Nice going, Uryuu. You're quite the diplomat."

The quincy nodded. "I won't actually expect you two to help after everything you've already done, but I have to ask that you at least do me the favour of receiving and dealing the information from Soul Society to me."

Urahara chuckled. "And leave dear Inoue-san's fate up to you alone? The poor girl will disappear forever!"

A nerve twitched in Uryuu's temple. "I think you just insulted me..."

"Ah, no, of course not, of course not Ishida-san!" Urahara exclaimed, "You've already proven your competence a hundred times over, but to be honest you're not really-" He was stopped by sharp claws digging into his knee, eliciting a loud cry of pain, "Ah, Yoruichi-san, that hurts! That hurts!"

"What Kisuke is trying to say is that obviously we'll help you find her," Yoruichi said before releasing her claw's hold on Urahara's tender flesh.

"The war has made you cruel, my dear Yoruichi-san," Urahara said, far too cheerfully.

"Don't sound so happy about it," the cat grumbled as Urahara's large hand gently petted her back.

Uryuu glanced between them somewhat hesitantly. "You don't think she's a traitor then?"

Urahara then gave the most devious smirk Uryuu had ever seen, for once revealing the ominous inner personality that he held within him, before covering it up once again with his fan. "Frankly, Ishida-san, I wouldn't care if she was."

Uryuu had no idea how to interpret that, and he wasn't given the chance to try as Urahara's intense gaze bore into him. "Now...tell us exactly what happened."

* * *

"He doesn't look so scary when he's asleep, does he?"

Orihime addressed the question to Ulquiorra as she stared down at the peacefully resting sixth Espada. She didn't expect him to answer, though she turned to look at him anyway. She wasn't surprised to find his eyes already on her. He said nothing, though his gaze did drift towards Grimmjow for a moment, a clearly dissatisfied expression making its way onto his face.

Orihime had calmed down from her earlier emotional distress enough to follow her captor into the mysterious third room. It was about the same size as the kitchen, sporting a rickety looking metal bed, an empty bookshelf, a large chest at the foot of the bed and a wooden desk next to the door. It looked and smelled very much abandoned, and the windows were similarly boarded up, the only light source coming from the old lamp on the desk. It made Ulquiorra and Grimmjow's white, alien forms seem all the more mysterious and interesting, shadows playing over their faces.

She knew Ulquiorra was surprised to see her so calm after their little spat, because she herself was surprised. She silently relished that she had come out of that bathroom in as good a mood as her situation would allow. If Ulquiorra wasn't planning on hurting her physically, then the worst he could do was play with her emotions. And she sure as hell wasn't going to sit back and let him.

"What are you thinking about?"

She realized when green eyes came suddenly into focus that she had been staring at him fairly intently for some time. She shrugged. "Nothing really." Her eyes landed on Grimmjow and she voiced a suspicion that began to form in her mind from the moment she'd walked into the room..

"Ah, Ulquiorra-san...you didn't..._make_ him go to sleep, did you?" Her hand moved to the back of her head, where the large lump still ached from where Ulquiorra had no doubt knocked her unconscious. It hurt quite a bit, but she could imagine Ulquiorra had even less gentle with Grimmjow. Ulquiorra only confirmed her suspicion by remaining stubbornly silent.

She sighed, probing the hard bump. It felt like something large had crawled under her scalp. She shuddered - once again her imagination going too far. Ulquiorra noticed and frowned at her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh." She shook her head, lowering her arm to her side. "It's nothing." She didn't want to have to tell Ulquiorra that he had hit her too hard when she was lucky he hadn't cracked her skull. How strong people like him and Kurosaki-kun didn't go around snapping off door handles and breaking glasses by accident, she would never know. Maybe that was why there were no door handles in Las Noches?

She could never have that much control over so much power. If she had Ulquiorra's strength she would screw up all the time. If she tried to brush her teeth, she would probably squeeze all the toothpaste out in one go. What a nightmare that would be.

So really, one little bump wasn't a big deal...

"Woman," Ulquiorra broke through her thoughts, "Don't lie to me."

She sighed, taking a step back and leaning against the wall opposite the pale Espada, next to the book shelf. "It's no big deal, really, it's just a little bump is all."

Ulquiorra's face didn't really lend itself to looking puzzled, but it was giving a good attempt. "What?"

She blushed. God, she was going to sound so whiny. Ulquiorra had already called her pathetic more than once. "Well, the back of my head...I guess where you..." She had no earthly idea what he had done, she could only remember a burst of pain and then darkness. "Um, hit me I guess...it's a bit sore."

Comprehension dawned and Ulquiorra moved towards her. She didn't think she would ever get used to him doing that. Ulquiorra's presence when he got near felt like an overwhelming ...well, it was just overwhelming. She became very aware of him when he was close like this - aware of how crisp and neat his coat was, perfectly hugging his body, his posture so stern and commanding, his hair ironically messy under that massive, heavy looking bone helmet. That intense, unreadable look in freakishly green eyes. He was only a few inches taller than her and yet he made her feel tiny in a way not even Aizen had.

She stood completely frozen as his hand left his pocket, an intense sense of déjà vu assaulting her as it lifted through the air, pale and slender. It reached around her head, the cuffs of his sleeves brushing her cheek, his eyes locked with hers. She gasped in pain as his fingers slid through her damp hair, gently probing the sizable goose-egg. He frowned before retracting his hand and reaching into his pocket, holding out her Shun Shun Rika for her once again.

"Heal it," he said. Orihime flushed, still very uncomfortable with how close he was standing.

"I-it's fine, I don't need to use them for something so trivial." How embarrassing! He probably thought she was a big cry baby.

His frown deepened. "It will cause you discomfort for many days. Heal it." This time, it was an obvious command. Hesitantly, she took her hairpins into her hands.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"For what?" He sounded like he really didn't know. She blinked up at him.

That was a damn good point. For a minute there, she had almost forgotten that Ulquiorra was a no-good kidnapper and any inconvenience she caused to him was his own damn fault. Why was _she_ apologizing because she was going to heal an injury _he_ caused? What the heck was going on with her brain?

She shook her head, summoned her fairies silently, and pouted at the floor. "Nothing."

Ulquiorra stared at her while she avoided his gaze as slowly the pain faded from her head. She wondered if Ayame and Shuno could reject whatever it was up there that had her thoughts so muddled.

She sullenly handed Ulquiorra the pins when she was done, and only then did he turn away from her, pocketing her brother's precious gift as he did so.

"Well, aint that sweet."

They both turned to stare at the source of the voice. Grimmjow stared up at them from his position on the bed before slowly sitting up, swinging his legs over the edge and placing his boots on the floor. He smirked at them with heavy eyes. "Ulquiorra...I don't think I've ever see you so concerned over something as pathetic as a bump on the head."

Orihime sighed internally. So if it wasn't Ulquiorra, it was Grimmjow calling her pathetic.

"Don't feel so guilty," Grimmjow continued, "How else were you supposed to get her away from her precious friends without her screaming your ears off?" He grinned.

Orihime's eyes slid over to the pale Espada, nervously anticipating his response. How Grimmjow could be comfortable talking smack to Ulquiorra when he probably didn't even have the energy to walk straight baffled her. But...she was curious, eagerly searching Ulquiorra's face for any sign of a reaction. Did he feel guilty? Concerned? The mere thought made her eye twitch in defiance of such a reality-shattering possibility. Ulquiorra may have been the least violent Espada she had met so far, but he also seemed the least likely to have second thoughts about causing serious harm if he saw the need for it.

But Ulquiorra simply gave the sixth a particularly cold look. "If you are awake now, we can get going."

Grimmjow quirked a brow, seemingly taken aback. "Going where?" he demanded.

"Back to Hueco Mundo."

Grimmjow scowled. "We just got back _from_ Hueco Mundo, dipshit. Why'd you bring us here in the first place?"

Orihime watched Ulquiorra's lips thin in annoyance, glancing back and forth between the two Espada, not exactly happy to be caught between the two of them. "Idiot." Ulquiorra deadpanned, "I needed to remove the both of you from Hueco Mundo before the Shinigami there discovered us, and she needed to wash away some of her scent."

Grimmjow's nostrils flared, and he turned in Orihime's direction, quite blatantly _sniffing_ her. He settled back after a moment. "Hn. So she did."

Colour rose to her cheeks and she stared at the floor. "Oh, uh - I didn't know I smelled that bad. Sorry."

Ulquiorra studied her in silence, but Grimmjow let out a loud snort. "Your scent made you smell like a _meal_, girly," he drawled, "It's quite appetizing. Nothing smells better to a hollow than sweat, blood and fear." He licked his lips to give the full menacing effect.

Orihime turned to Ulquiorra, eyes wide, and her blush intensified when the fourth said nothing to contradict Grimmjow's claim. She fidgeted

"But won't the hollow sense me?"

"My reiatsu renders your presence negligible. So long as your scent is not inhibiting their judgement, none will approach you while Grimmjow or I am near."

"Oh, okay." She hesitated. "But, just in case, shouldn't I have my hairpins with me?"

Ulquiorra's answer was a solid, "No."

"But what if for some reason I need to defend myself and you're distracted?"

"I am not easily distracted."

Orihime bit her lip, trying to come up with a way to counter his rather simple, yet elegant argument.

"But what if-"

"Enough." Ulquiorra said firmly, his eyes freezing her blood. "You're annoying me. This is not a negotiation. "

Her face fell. Ulquiorra snapped his fingers without warning, and immediately the gaping maw of the garganta opened. That was one way to end a conversation.

"Come," he told them, and disappeared into the darkness.


	4. The Dark

A/N: This message will be long, so feel free to scroll down to the chapter. I apologize for the inconvenience :D

To Nom de Plume:

Thank you so much for your awesome, insightful review! I really, really enjoyed it. I was blushing the whole way through. Your criticism regarding Orihime was well said and constructive, so thank you very much :) I was actually losing steam a bit. I had half of this chapter written before I got distracted with some other stuff. Then this morning I read your review and it just got me all fired up and eager to write again! I just want to address some stuff quickly though (I would have PM-ed you, but ah well)

I think a lot of people make the mistake of falling on two sides of the spectrum with Orihime: They either make her a completely unbelievable ditz with a wacky, out of this world imagination or in an attempt to humanize her they make her a walking sack of self-loathing and angst. Orihime is such a wonderful character because she possesses all these traits in moderation. And they are by no means the extent of her character (however much the Hueco Mundo arc might have  
made it seem so - if it weren't for the Ulquihime angle I would have been severely pissed with Kubo for what he did with Orihime there -' wahhh, kurosaki-kun, kurosaki-kun' - blegh!)

But, there is yet more to her character! She came in the top three of her grade - I mean, I'm pretty smart and I never even made it into the top 50 list. She has black belt level hand-to-hand combat skills. She's a poet (think: if I were the rain...) and obviously a philosopher, judging by her one speech to Ulquiorra. She's resourceful (it was her idea to beat up those Shinigami and steal their uniforms - which she did single handedly! - in the Soul Society Arc). And, as Ulquiorra so kindly has revealed to us, she has a mental 'fuck-this-shit' button (think: epic bitch slap). People have a tendency to write her as this pure, innocent person who couldn't possible have bad thoughts about anyone - and she's much better than most, I'll admit. But, she had a bratty tantrum with her brother for getting her a present she didn't like. She was thrust into maturity way too quickly after that, but she's just like the rest of us plebs.

My point in bringing all of this up is that it's really hard for me to write her because she's such an underestimated character. People often say 'well, surely Orihime wouldn't do that', whereas in my mind I'm like; 'no, no, think about it for a sec and I think you'll see she would'. It's incredibly hard to break the stereotypical mould of a character while still keeping her...y'know...IN character. Almost impossible really xD But there is, for the most part, a reason for most of what I write. For example, I could easily justify her way of speaking the way she did to Ulquiorra; he's Ulquiorra. He's immediately going to make her want to sound more mature and intelligent. Speaking to him will pressure her into bringing her Agame. Just imagine if YOU were forced into a philosophical discussion with him, and somehow got past the stuttering/fangasming. You'd want him to take you seriously, right? So you'd immediately square your shoulders, clear your throat and dig deep into your vocabulary for something that won't make you sound like an ignorant dunce.

That's very much how I see Ulquiorra affecting Orihime...he brings out her inner adult (ehehehe...not as dirty as it sounds...yet). That's why I love Ulquihime. Ichigo makes Orihime feel like a useless child and she's pretty much reduced to babbling and blushing and screaming his name whenever he's around. His presence completely stifles her character. Ulquiorra, on the other hand, brings out this fierce, stubborn side. Ironic, considering Ichigo is a sweetheart and Ulquiorra is SUCH a dick. Seriously, the man's a real jerk.

But anyway...jeez, I said I was going to address it 'quick'. Whoops. Don't think I'm getting defensive, I'm totally not! (that would imply that you offended me - which you most certainly didn't). I'm just way too enthusiastic when it comes to character analysis. When I get started, I can't stop. You made some very good points that I will do my best to adhere to anyway - I'm aware that if you need a whole page to justify a writing choice, some shit needs to change.

To the rest of my reviewers; I will reply to you ASAP! Thank you so much, I was really so freaking happy with the response this has received so far! Constructive criticism is always welcome - it keeps me on my toes and keeps my mind racing.

Enjoy :)

**The Dark:**

* * *

Orihime ended up supporting Grimmjow

She wasn't sure how it happened, and was still foggy on how she had pulled it off without him yanking her into a headlock and doing his best to pop her head off like a champagne cork, but before reaching the garganta Grimmjow had stumbled. With agility Orihime usually failed to display, she had ducked under his arm before he could face-plant into the ominous black portal and helped him hobble inside

He was definitely heavy, but Orihime was, to her embarrassment, a fairly sturdy girl. The more amazing thing was that he allowed her to help him without making a fuss or threatening to break her leg off and beat her with it. In fact, the only sign he gave of his displeasure was the terrifying scowl that he had splashed over his face. Thankfully though, it was directed not at her but at the Espada walking along so casually in front of them. She grit her teeth and supported him along the smooth, white hovering path that seemed to materialize beneath Ulquiorra's feet moments before they touched down, the only stable construct in a world of never-ending darkness.

Her only guess was that Grimmjow was _slightly - very _slightly _-_ more practical than he was angry, and he had deigned her assistance the most tolerable of his options. She was grateful that he refrained from yelling at her at least. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to help someone like him, but at least he wasn't making it too difficult for her. Grimmjow still terrified her. He seemed so wild and untameable and _violent_. She would never know now if he really would have strangled her to death without Kurosaki-kun's intervention, but she certainly wouldn't have bet on him sparing her. He'd dragged her around Hueco Mundo in a sack and killed two people right in front of her.

And there she was...her one arm around his lower back, the other holding the wrist of the arm he had thrown over her shoulder. He was hot and bulky and entirely too tall and he had possibly almost killed her, but she felt _sorry_ for him. She would never, ever say it out loud - she liked her internal organs where they were, thank you very much - but Grimmjow was frankly just as screwed as she was. He too was a prisoner of the dark haired Espada in front of them, except she had a feeling that while Ulquiorra was relatively gentle with her, Grimmjow would not be given the same courtesy. She didn't even know why she wasn't allowed to heal him. She had felt Ulquiorra's crushing, suffocating reiatsu. He could mop the floor with Grimmjow without even using his second release, possibly without even needing his _first_ release - more thoughts she would never voice out loud for fear of disembowelment...or worse.

Why was she helping this nutjob again?

Maybe Ulquiorra just figured it was easier to let the sixth stay cut up by someone else than heal him, have him go ballistic and then have to cut him up himself. Poor Grimmjow. Yet another victim of Ulquiorra's pragmatism.

She was only a human. Her inability to fight Ulquiorra off was perfectly acceptable, even if it did sting her pride to be dragged around like a pet. Grimmjow was probably beating himself up for being too weak to fight, just like Kurosaki-kun would. Grimmjow and Kurosaki-kun seemed oddly similar to her in a weird way. It was completely inconceivable, and if someone had told her she'd be thinking these things about the crazy guy who had put his hand through someone's chest, blown them up and then spent the better part of ten minutes laughing like a lunatic, she wouldn't have believed it for a second.

But the psychotic sixth Espada was an incidental fellow victim and as such, an incidental ally. Even if he did smell like copper.

In contrast to Grimmjow's bedraggled, bloody appearance, Ulquiorra moved along in front of them like an immaculately groomed, silent tour guide. She was always amazed and almost jealous when she watched Ulquiorra walk. His posture was so ridiculously perfect, and yet he made it look natural on him. He moved with a straight spine, shoulders neither stiff nor slumped but perfectly positioned, hands casually in his pockets, footsteps fluid and agile. Like a male model on the catwalk, and she could almost imagine that the darkness around them was filled with approving whistles and judges giving 10-out-of-10 scores. His coat tails swayed behind him, his hair brushing over his neck and shoulders with each step. She couldn't keep her eyes off him, much like the first time he had taken her through the garganta.

That time it hadn't taken her long to realize she really didn't want to stare into the darkness. Strange shapes began to appear and she knew not if their terrifying appearance was due to her imagination or something else. So she had kept her eyes on the moderately less terrifying and infinitely more substantial form of her captor. It was the same now, even though she did feel slightly better with Grimmjow at her side. The weakened Espada wouldn't be much use she knew logically, but his presence helped quell the awful feeling that something was about to touch her neck or grab her ankle from behind.

Back then, she had simply hurried forward and discreetly taken hold of one of Ulquiorra's fluttering coattails, hoping to god that if anything tried to grab her she could hold on long enough for the strange pale man to kill it. He had ignored her presence, even though she was practically breathing down his neck in fear, and hadn't said anything about her hands gripping his clothes like a life line. Back then she had assumed he simply hadn't noticed, but after getting to know Ulquiorra during her captivity she realized how ridiculously unlikely that was. He had allowed it, plain and simple, and she wasn't really sure why.

And she was kind of starting to want to do it again, except she was occupied with supporting Grimmjow. All her thoughts about things attacking them caused goosebumps to rise over her flesh and her body to start trembling. She fixed her gaze firmly on the dark haired Espada, knowing that if she allowed her eyes to wonder she would only scare herself more. This place terrified her. It was unnatural for a human like her to be here, crossing between the land of the living and the land of death so casually. She worried that nature itself would turn on her and swallow her whole for transgressing on territories she had no right to.

Only their footsteps and breathing reached her ears in this silent place, but this only unnerved her more. She needed a distraction.

"Ulquiorra-san?"

It only registered when Ulquiorra abruptly stopped walking and turned to look over his shoulder at her that she had called for him out loud. She stopped her and Grimmjow's progress as well and the blue haired man sagged over her slightly, the loss of momentum making him lose his natural balance. Her knees strained to hold both their weight and she realized how ridiculous she must appear to Ulquiorra's single eye - the human girl with a constipated expression struggling to remain upright under a heavily breathing and more-than-slightly annoyed Grimmjow. Her mind raced furiously for something to say, feeling Grimmjow grow more restless with every second, feeling the growing tension in his muscles and hearing the audible grinding of his teeth so close to her ear. At least his scary mask was on the other side of his jaw.

Ulquiorra's patience seemed to run its course as well as his frown deepened and he broke the silence, asking a rather blunt, "What?"

She frowned, thinking of the one thing that puzzled her about all of this. "How did you come back you life?"

He stared at her in silence for a long moment, as if assessing her.

"What do you mean _'come back to life'_?" Grimmjow suddenly asked, straightening up with effort and staring down at the top of her head with a heavy frown. Orihime blinked up at him.

"You mean you don't know?"

That was obviously the wrong thing to say as the sixth Espada's heavily lidded eyes narrowed down at her dangerously. She realized Grimmjow must have been too weak to sense it when Ulquiorra was defeated. She shrank back, suddenly very aware of his arm around her. If he noticed her reaction he made no effort to respond to it.

"Obviously," he deadpanned before turning his scowl on the fourth Espada still watching them over his shoulder. "Ulquiorra, what the hell is she talking about? You died?"

Ulquiorra slowly turned to face forward and began walking again, as if he had every intention of ignoring their questions. Orihime gasped and stumbled after him, desperate not to be left behind. Grimmjow growled, literally _growled_, deadly gaze on Ulquiorra's perfectly curved spine, looking like he wanted to rip it out of the fourth's body and pick his teeth with it. He seemed about to bark something out at the higher ranking Espada, when suddenly Ulquiorra's answered.

"In a manner of speaking," he said calmly, as if he weren't talking about his earlier grisly demise. He stared ahead and continued their journey, though his voice reached them loud and clear. "The boy managed to destroy most of my internal organs. I had no hope of surviving."

"But you didn't die," Grimmjow said and it was clear from his tone that he thought this to be a very unfortunate state of business.

"I believe I did," Ulquiorra stated, "Though it was temporary."

"How the hell is that possible?" Grimmjow growled and Orihime felt his steps speed up, as if he wanted to catch up to the pale Espada.

"I suspect it has to do with how I died," Ulquiorra said into the darkness, "When the boy inflicted the wounds that ultimately killed me he was in a state that I surmise was nearly fully hollow. He was not using the powers of a Shinigami when he defeated me."

Orihime frowned, glancing up at Grimmjow as if he could clear up her confusion. "What does that have to do with it though?"

"When hollow are defeated by Shinigami, their souls are cleansed and sent to the Soul Society by the power of their zanpakutou. I was not killed with a zanpakutou, but with a cero," Ulquiorra elaborated.

Orihime was beginning to see where this was going. "Kurosaki-kun refused to finish the duel..."

"Yes. In the end, I died of my own accord from my injuries. And my soul had nowhere to go. I had not been devoured, as most hollow are when defeated by other hollow, and I had not been cleansed. The quincy did not manage to harm me at all and I was not destroyed. So I returned."

"That's incredible..." Orihime said in awe, "Something as simple as how you died affected everything."

"There is a chance that had I been killed with the boys zanpakutou, I would have immediately begun a new life cycle as a human, given how the hougyoku has blurred the line between hollow and Shinigami. I may have bypassed Soul Society altogether. The boy's stubbornness proved rather fortunate."

Orihime reflected on this in silence for a moment before asking in a soft tone that still carried through the air clearly. "You told Kurosaki-kun that if he didn't kill you your battle would never be over. Did...did you know you would come back?"

"I did not."

And that was it. Silence resumed, leaving Orihime to mull over their discussion. Even Grimmjow had grown quietly contemplative, no longer glaring at Ulquiorra's back but rather staring thoughtfully at nowhere in particular.

Orihime was shocked to find that after no small amount of thought, and even after fully considering the possible consequences, she wasn't really sure if she wished he had stayed dead.

* * *

Uryuu wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to handle his current predicament. He had grown up in an emotionally stunted environment after the loss of his grandfather. He had never learned how to deal with this sort of thing, particularly not from someone like _her_. He had rarely interacted with her, but he knew her well enough to tentatively label her a friend. This particular classmate he had _never_ seen cry.

"Arisawa-san..." he trailed off, feeling woefully inadequate. He was _not_ the person to deal with this sort of thing. He didn't _do _public displays of emotion.

Tatsuki hadn't taken his news about Orihime's disappearance too well. He had called her over to Urahara's shop, along with Sado, figuring that they were the two who most deserved to be brought up to speed, even if it was the middle of the night. They had shown up out of breath, each having obviously dressed and run over hastily.

Sado had reacted predictably - listening silently and then calmly exiting the shop to 'get some fresh air'. But Tatsuki...she had backed up into the register counter, visibly trembling, before her eyes had filled with tears. Uryuu had barely had time to put his hands out - to do what he had no idea - before she slid to the ground and hid her face in her hands, shoulders shaking in silent sobs. The usually strong, composed young woman was having a breakdown in front of him and he had no idea how to respond.

He looked around the shop desperately, wishing someone - _anyone_, even those annoying brats of Urahara's - to intervene. It was dark, the only light shining from the moon outside and through the closed shoji screen doors behind which the other inhabitants of the shop were going about their business.

God, he _hated_ seeing girls cry - particularly a usually strong girl like Tatsuki. What was he supposed to do? Leave her alone to have her moment in private? But that might come off as overly cold or callous. Should he comfort her? What if she grew upset with his presence? He certainly wouldn't want someone to stick around while he was in such a state, but he had observed that women were different in this regard. Then again, Tatsuki had always possessed more male practicality than most...Oh, he had no idea.

Hesitantly lowering onto his haunches while wishing silently to be somewhere, _anywhere_ else, he placed a hand over the crying young woman's knee. Her leg jerked, and two startled brown eyes peeked at him from over her fingers, watching him sorrowfully.

"Arisawa-san...Please, don't be upset." He couldn't help but think he sounded completely awkward as he said it. Again, he was _not_ the right person for this. "Inoue-san will be fine. We'll find her."

Pointless, robotic sentiments with no real value. With his keen mind...was that really the best he could do?

"I thought..." Her voice came out weak and hoarse. She swallowed, inhaling deeply. "I thought I felt her this morning."

Uryuu's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"For the first time since that day, I was _sure_ I felt Orihime's presence. It felt like she was so close...I thought she had come back with you guys. I didn't think anything was wrong but then...a few hours later...she disappeared again." She laughed a twisted, sad laugh, "She was here, in this world, _today_. And I didn't do anything about it and now she's gone."

Uryuu's blue eyes pierced her thoughtfully, mulling over this information. Tatsuki kept her eyes averted, hastily wiping away her tears even as they fell, clearly ashamed. "You're really so attuned to Inoue-san's whereabouts?"

She nodded, gave a dull shrug. "Yeah. I can usually always tell if she's out there somewhere. But for these last few weeks, and again now, nothing..."

Uryuu smiled triumphantly. "Arisawa-san, I know you felt like you couldn't do anything to help us in the war, but I believe you're going to be invaluable in searching for Inoue-san."

Tatsuki finally brought herself to meet his eyes, surprising him with the contrast of strength and sorrow. "What use could I be? I can't sense her at all now."

He gave her knee a firm, reassuring squeeze, eyes flashing. "Which tells us _exactly_ where she is."

* * *

While the two humans quietly conversed, deeper within Urahara Shoten the scientist himself stood in a dark room lit only with blinking lights and the fluorescent glow of several monitors. On one such monitor he observed the goings-on in his home. Ururu and Jinta safely in bed, Tessai attending to the unconscious Ichigo, Sado outside, coping in his own way. He watched the crying Tatsuki with blank, seemingly indifferent eyes. Only one housemate eluded his omniscience, a shadow that even now approached him with nary a sound.

"Kisuke..."

"Yoruichi-san." He replied calmly. He had known she was coming of course. She was the only one who could strategically avoid his cameras.

She watched him from beside a ceiling-high glass tank. She had long ago stopped noticing the strange specimens and equipment in his private lab. Now she could only see him, his blond head for once fully visible, his hat on the hook by the door. In the dark of the lab he almost looked as he had all those years ago, before their world's had changed forever.

She had long known that the energy he displayed on a daily basis was, for the most part, an act. There was no curiosity in his eyes now, none of that quietly emphatic need to understand and dissect. Only weariness and regret. The same expression she often caught him with, ever since _that_ day.

"How long do you intend to wallow in this guilt of yours?" she asked, moving gracefully through the lab, coming to lean her back against the sturdy equipment in front of him, giving her a clear view of his face, highlighted by shadow.

"Me? Guilty?" he said with false incredulity, pointing a questioning finger at his own suddenly grinning face, "Yoruichi-san, _I'm _not the one who let her get taken again." There was an acidic tinge of bitterness to his otherwise jovial tone.

She crossed her arms under her breasts, giving him a stern look. "Don't bullshit me."

"I'm _not_," he said firmly, mouth falling into a frown, "That human is not my responsibility. Her life is and was trivial in the grand scheme of things. I made a miscalculation regarding her, yes. I had more important things to deal with at the time."

He only did this with her. When he _knew_ beforehand that his usual tactic of making some offhand, witty comment wouldn't work he pulled out a mask of a different nature. He summoned the dispassionate, cruel side of himself he kept hidden from the world and he wore it like a shield, hoping to deter her prying. But Yoruichi had known this man since they were children, knew that his compassion would always battle with his cold, practical, scientific mind.

And she knew how it affected him when his compassion lost and he later came to regret it.

"Hiding behind the truth is still hiding," she told him with an arched brow, "You know you're not that heartless."

She knew she had affected him when his adam's apple bobbed and his throat seemed to tighten. It was a tick she had long ago noticed, but she'd be damned if she ever let him know about it. It was one of the few things that let her read him so successfully. He passed off his discomfort quickly though and tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Hmmm. Aren't I?"

"No. You're not."

He waved a hand at her, the other covering his mouth as he turned away in mock embarrassment. "You flatter me!"

She tilted her head, lips quirking into a smile. "Why would I do that? Your head's big enough as it is."

He chuckled and there was silence. She would no longer pursue their previous line of conversation. He was smart enough to anticipate what she would say, and she had already made her point. It would be up to him to move on from his guilt in his own time. Urahara Kisuke was one horse you could _not_ force to drink.

And Yoruichi had no desire to try. So instead she moved on, sighing and rubbing the back of her neck tiredly. She had never thought the day would come where _she_ of all people would wish for things to be peaceful. "What will you do if Orihime's actually a traitor?"

Urahara shrugged and smiled secretively, "Why, the same thing I always do with traitors."

She smirked, "Good. And if she's not alone?"

Grey eyes narrowed, alight with mischief."I'm an _expert_ at getting women alone, my dear Yoruichi-san."

She smiled coyly. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, the atmosphere had shifted. Yoruichi took a bold step forward and twined her arms around the taller man's neck. To his credit, he neither blinked nor flinched away from her as she brought her face up to his, their noses brushing. His eyes twinkled down at her expectantly and his hands came to rest above her hips, large and yet unimposing. This was no blushing virgin boy she was dealing with, but a dangerous, experienced man. The only man she had never considered weak. Her lips hovered above his, not quite touching. They stood like that for a moment, silent, breathless. The anticipation was so much more exciting than the act - a motto she had followed her whole life. A man couldn't disappoint you if you never let him have you. But he...

He had never disappointed her, had he?

"Kisuke...I think I'm getting old," she whispered against his lips, her body relaxing against him, as if the fight had left her. And it was _ever _so comfortable to surrender.

"Oh? I must have missed that." He chuckled as her amber eyes narrowed at him, her grip around his shoulders tightening. "Why?"

She sighed, closing her eyes and brushing against his nose tenderly, "Because for the first time, I'm getting tired of screwing around. One hundred years is more than enough for foreplay, don't you think?"

"Is that what we've been doing?" He laughed lowly, fingers digging ever so slightly into her firm flesh, "I suppose I agree. But are you sure I'm the man you want? You know me better than anyone, so I won't begrudge you if you say no now."

"As if I would have stuck around all this time only to say no now. Idiot."

His eyes were solemn and gentle, "Only when it comes to you."

"I've noticed."

And as his mischievous hands slid down to her bottom and hoisted her against him, she closed the miniscule gap between their lips.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I _will_ be playing 'pair the spares'. I'm a girl, I like romance. Sue me. Besides, Ulquihime is such a freaking slow pace, intense pairing to write that if I had balls they would be the deepest of blue. So Urahara and Yoruichi got some action instead. A lot of people seem to think they're just friends but I'm sorry...two people that attractive do NOT stay BFF's for over a century without _something_ going down. And Yoruichi strikes me as the kind of lady who is just _'too much woman_' for most men. I imagine throughout her life she's had a HOST of disappointing sexual partners who just couldn't keep up with her.

Oh yeah, and now we know why Ulquiorra's back ~trumpets and confetti~ yay! I hope my pseudo-scientific explanation satisfied you all. It was the first thing that I thought when Ulquiorra died. Where will his soul go? Is he going to come back in Soul Society? But wait...how would he if he wasn't killed with a zanpakutou? Oh no, Ulquiorra - you're gone forever!

And then I thought _'fuck that shit'_ and wrote this. I know that by waiting three chapters to reveal how he survived, I may have mistakenly given the impression that there would be some awesome reason. But meh...Ulquiorra wasn't in a chatty mood in chapter one. If his explanation seems implausible... SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF! It should be worth it :)


	5. The Long Walk

**Chapter 5; The Long Walk**

Orihime would never have expected to feel relief upon setting foot on the cold, dry sands of Hueco Mundo, but anything was better than the unyielding darkness of the portal that slowly closed behind her. There was, she had thought to herself more than once, a kind of sad, desolate beauty to Hueco Mundo.

She carried Grimmjow over the threshold and felt him inhale deeply, no doubt appreciatively taking in the atmosphere of his dimension. Ulquiorra waited a few meters away, green eyes trailing around appraisingly. The night sky greeted her almost smugly, that accursed half moon she had become so familiar with shining down on the unlikely trio with its lifeless silver light. In the distance she could see the massive domed figure of Las Noches, still standing for the most part, though she could make out significant structural damage. There was a strong tug of satisfaction at seeing the horrid place in such a state.

Her contemplation was interrupted when Grimmjow shoved her away with a grunt, sending her toppling over into the sand with an undignified cry. He straightened himself up and glared down at her, as if daring her to voice a complaint. Ulquiorra's indifferent gaze drifted between them for a moment - and Orihime had almost prepared herself to hear him berate Grimmjow for being too rough - before he turned on his heel and began the long trek towards the defeated fortress in silence. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes at her in warning before turning after Ulquiorra's smaller frame. She pulled herself to her feet and dusted herself off, scowling at Grimmjow's back.

"You're welcome," she muttered petulantly, kicking her bare feet over the ground in annoyance.

His blue head whipped around to face her, a startlingly insane smile on his face, "You say something, Princess?"

Orihime's shoulder's stiffened, her face turning red in embarrassment at being caught, "N-no, nothing!"

Grimmjow smirked, "I didn't think so."

Orihime couldn't resist the urge to stick out her tongue when Grimmjow once again turned away, feeling childish but very much satisfied until Ulquiorra spared them a backwards glance. For a moment she was left completely unsure of what to do with her face, her small pink tongue somehow unable to return to her mouth as cool green eyes blinked at her. Her mortification only truly set in when the pale Espada returned to ignoring her, and the suddenly dry appendage returned to its home in shame. She resentfully decided she was done with being cheeky. She lacked the finesse.

Orihime was left to scramble after the pair of them, reluctantly coming to walk beside the hulking sixth Espada. He seemed to be doing much better now that he was in his natural habitat, slouching after Ulquiorra in a manner that shouldn't have been graceful, and yet was. He did nothing to indicate he even noticed her presence. Orihime would much rather have avoided him altogether, but there was once again that overwhelming feeling of being exposed on all sides that encouraged her to stay close to the two Espada.

Not that being exposed to them was particularly safe...

It took Orihime a few minutes to realize just how far away from the fortress they were.

"Why are we so far away?" she asked before she even registered she was speaking. Grimmjow gave her a look that made his low opinion of her intelligence abundantly clear. Thankfully, Ulquiorra answered before Grimmjow could give his no doubt scathing reply.

"To avoid the Shinigami, if there are any still here."

"Ohhh," she murmured. She glanced around, stretching out her senses as far as she could, but unable to sense anything beyond emptiness. Perhaps they were truly alone or perhaps her senses had just been dulled completely by the loss of her Shun Shun Rika. All hope for rescue slowly withered away. Ulquiorra was going about this way too smartly. She sighed in defeat.

It was only several minutes later after trudging over the soft sand that Orihime truly realized the extent of her fatigue. She began to stumble over the sand, her clumsy moves making Grimmjow give her an odd look and subtly edge away from her, as if her display of weakness was somehow contagious. She did her best to press on in silence, her lids beginning to droop shut and her leg muscles screaming at her.

A long walk over sand would be a trying task under normal circumstances, but she was _exhausted_. She hadn't had any real sleep for several days, hadn't eaten anything since Ulquiorra had first taken her - not that she would dare bring that up in front of him - and she had used her powers more in the last few days than she ever had in her life. She had been beaten up, pushed around, held hostage, threatened and ridiculed nonstop and now she was being dragged around like a _pet _again and she was _tired_.

She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed when Ulquiorra continued to steadfastly ignore her increasingly obvious sounds of distress. She felt her body begin to shake, her vision begin to grow blurry, and her mouth go completely dry before she finally collapsed.

She lay there for a moment, cheek pressed into the sand with a beautiful view of Hueco Mundo's rolling horizon before she forced herself to lift her torso up on shaky arms, panting into the sand.

It was with half relief and half fear that she greeted the sight of a pair of black boots making their way into her field of vision, and she recognized Ulquiorra's unmistakable presence. She allowed herself to look up at him, swallowing uneasily at his expression.

"What are you playing at?" he demanded coldly, and she shivered at the annoyed downward tilt of his thin lips.

"I..." she ducked her head, unable to look him in the eye and maintain her nerve, "I'm tired, okay? I'll try to do better." She began her perfectly pathetic attempt to rise to her feet.

Then her foot caught on the edge of her cloak and she found herself stumbling forward with a weak cry.

She fell with absolutely no grace against Ulquiorra's chest, her chin banging painfully against his collar bone, forcing tears to spring to her eyes involuntarily. Had he been a regular man he would have toppled to the ground underneath her, in a fair amount of pain, but as it was he simply exhaled in surprise, pale hands clamping down her shoulders and stilling her flailing arms.

She mumbled in pain, using her forehead as leverage to push herself off of the rigid Espada's chest. She got her legs in order, straightening up as she did so.

It was only when she felt an odd tingle fly straight from her chest into her lower abdomen that she realized her bosom was pressed firmly against Ulquiorra's torso, her nipples grazing against him and eliciting an involuntary and immediate reaction within her - as if a heavy bundle of nerves had been activated, like something between anxiety and arousal. She had always been sensitive there - but this...was an Espada, an enemy, her captor. This was dangerous - wrong!

All the blood rushed to her face as she yelped and desperately pushed her hands against Ulquiorra's chest in an attempt to break away from him. He released her immediately, and she fell back into the sand on her bottom, breathing heavily and feeling her face literally radiate warmth from the intensity of her blush.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I wasn't t-trying to - it was an accident, I swear!" she babbled, her hands covering her face to hide her sheer embarrassment. This entire ordeal was one long string of embarrassing events after another, but that one - that _single_ one - nearly reduced her to tears of pure frustration and discomfort, "I'm sorry!"

_"Shut up,"_ she heard him say firmly, and she peeked through her fingers long enough to find him pinching the bridge of his nose in an uncharacteristically human gesture, as if she was beginning to give him a headache. Grimmjow stood a little ways behind him to the left, observing the scene with a mildly entertained expression, no doubt enjoying himself at her expense.

She gasped as he reached down without warning and seized her upper arm, hauling her to her feet. She met his eyes, realizing with a dull sense of unease that she had once again managed to irritate him. But that didn't stop the burst of inspiration from striking her. If she could coerce him into giving away his position...then maybe there was still hope for someone to find her!

"Can't we just use your sonido to get there?" she asked, drawing her brows together pleadingly, "Please?"

Ulquiorra's eyes immediately narrowed, as if in that moment he instantly saw through her. "No."

Orihime's face fell, her nerve breaking. She couldn't argue with him while he was so close, especially not with those bony fingers still wrapped dangerously around her arm. She was about to resign herself to failure when an unlikely ally stepped in.

"There's fucking no one here, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow drawled, "Why the hell are we tip-toeing around?"

Ulquiorra acted as if he hadn't heard, continuing to stare at her appraisingly.

Grimmjow tensed up, fists clenched, and seemed about to say something threatening when Ulquiorra leant down, released Orihime's arm and then grabbed her around her waist before effortlessly hoisting her over his shoulder, ignoring her alarmed outcry.

"Ulquiorra-san! Wh-what are you doing?!"

"That should be obvious," he answered as he turned around and continued his journey towards Las Noches.

Orihime once again hid her face in her hands, too afraid to tell Ulquiorra that she was too heavy as she had protested to Kurosaki-kun. That had only ended in extreme humiliation on her part. So she endured the uncomfortable jab of Ulquiorra's shoulder against her hip and allowed herself to go limp, hanging her head in defeat. Only Ulquiorra's firm grip on her calf kept her from sliding to the ground.

Trying to force Ulquiorra to reveal his presence by using his sonido had been a brilliant failure, and now she was stuck in a far worse situation. She expected Ulquiorra to give some indication of the discomfort that she herself was feeling at their proximity, but he moved forward as if she weren't even there. She could hear Grimmjow's footsteps behind them, still trailing Ulquiorra, but with the air of someone with nothing better to do rather than that of a hostage. She watched the back of Ulquiorra's hakama beneath her, belatedly realizing as his boots traveled steadily over the uneven terrain that she was grateful to be carried. There was no water nearby and traipsing over miles of sand was no easy task.

Orihime tried to imaging collapsing into a warm bed - or even better, onto her sofa in front of the television with a blanket and a bucket of icecream. She tried to imagine that she would be home soon - that this little adventure _wouldn't_ end with her grisly demise. Before she knew it, the hypnotic view of Ulquiorras' and her shadow dancing over the pale sand lulled her to an uneasy sleep.

* * *

"She's snoring!"

Grimmjow was not generally one for incredulous outbursts, but the realization that Orihime had not, in fact, fainted from the obvious horror of being anywhere near Ulquiorra's pale arse, but had rather dozed off into a peaceful slumber, was one that merited a display of surprise.

He wasn't sure if he should respect her for her complete insanity - did she not understand just _who_ was holding her? Did she have _no_ sense of self preservation? - or be annoyed that such an obviously mentally handicapped human being had been allowed to live past infancy.

"And?" Ulquiorra said in his mind numbing monotone.

Grimmjow smirked. "It's weird. Someone like her shouldn't be able to stomach someone like you."

"Someone like her?" Ulquiorra questioned, a tantalizing note of a dark threat lingering in his voice, "And what do you know of Inoue Orihime, Grimmjow?"

"I know she's way too _alive_ for someone so _dead_."

Grimmjow wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he could have sworn that Ulquiorra's perfectly even gait faltered for a second before his smooth stride returned. He heard the fourth make a sound that might have been a scoff. "You would be a fool to underestimate her capabilities. This woman is far stronger than she appears."

"What, you mean her little attempt at manipulation back there, tryna get you to give yourself away? Don't make me laugh."

"No. Her strength does not lie in deceit."

"Tch," Grimmjow spat on the sand in contempt, "Apparently it lies in making you even more of an insufferable shithead than you already are."

He made no reply, and Grimmjow was left to watch the odd sight of Ulquiorra Schiffer carting around a sleeping human in silence. His eyes narrowed at Orihime's bobbing head in contemplation.

When she had knocked into Ulquiorra earlier, there had been an unmistakable look of surprise on his face. Grimmjow didn't get to see many things more curious than a change in Ulquiorra's expression, and that girl had managed to make his change several times in the span of a few moments. From surprise, to concern, to irritation and then the unmistakable flash of _hunger_. Grimmjow didn't blame the guy - he'd be hungry too if a pretty little human had her chest pressed up against him. He could see it plain as day, even if Ulquiorra denied it, even if he had masked it before the girl had the chance to see it.

That green eyed son of a bitch wanted to _devour_ her.

He almost felt sorry for the kid. _Almost_. Any human that let their guard down around a hollow was asking to get eaten. And she seemed, for the most part, completely oblivious to the danger she was in. Hell, compared to the kind of terror she _should_ have been feeling, she was practically acting like she was on a field trip! Even during her little scene earlier - there had been no scent of fear. The tantalizingly pungent aroma was one he would never fail to recognize, and there had been none of it, even while she was babbling like a loon.

And what kind of idiocy could possibly provoke a human to get within a hundred feet of _him_, the sixth-fucking-Espada, let alone get close enough to _help_ him. Had she missed the part where he was bloodied and beaten in the first place because he had tried to kill her beloved 'Kurosaki-kun'? What did a guy have to do to get the bitch to back off and learn her place?

Whatever it was, he had a feeling Ulquiorra would be the one to do it, sooner or later. And he'd just sit back and enjoy the show.

* * *

Orihime woke from the first actual sleep (and not forced unconsciousness) that she'd had in several days when Ulquiorra placed her carefully on her feet in front of him. She swayed tiredly, taking a moment to realize her surroundings and blinking until the blurry images of Ulquiorra, and behind him, Grimmjow, sharpened. "We're here."

"Huh? Where?" she asked stupidly. Grimmjow snorted and Ulquiorra appeared mildly bemused before he closed his eyes and stepped past her.

"Come."

Orihime turned after him and gasped.

* * *

A/N: Regarding Orihime and Grimmjow's differing opinions on Ulquiorra - there is a reason. Orihime, as a human, sees Ulquiorra as this kind of scary but not-all-that-bad guy with poor social skills who just doesn't understand certain things. Grimmjow, as a hollow, sees him as a complete monster whose killed and devoured thousands of humans and hollow alike. That's why he's all like 'are you insane? Hustle bitch - get away!' and Orihime's more like 'well this kinda sucks, but oh well'. That's not to say either of them are correct in their assessments. But I encourage you to guess.


	6. Warnings and Pleas

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews folks! I will reply to them all...eventually...

Um, yes - this chapter is pretty much where this story starts to go 100% AU. You may no longer compare this to canon in any way.

**Warnings and Pleas:**

* * *

They stood underneath the fake daylight within the dome of Las Noches, several large cracks and the occasional gaping hole filtering through the natural silver moonlight of Hueco Mundo's true night sky.

On the ground, they were surrounded by destruction of an even greater scale. They stood on cracked red concrete, multicolored boulders piled up all around them as if someone had recently excavated the area. And a distance away, in the middle of a half collapsed green wall stood a massive purple door.

Orihime glanced around in awe, feeling terribly small and out of place in the middle of such chaos.

"Whoa," was all she could utter, blinking at Ulquiorra questioningly, "What happened here?"

Ulquiorra answered, "Kurotsuchi Mayuri."

It took Orihime several seconds of blank incomprehension before she put a face to the name. Her eyes widened. "You mean that horrible clown scientist man?!"

"...Yes."

"You got a history with this guy?" Grimmjow asked, looking down at her curiously.

Orihime shuddered, the memory of that day still emblazoned in her mind. It had been the first time she had seen murder. "He told me he'd give me _'reasonable working conditions'_..." she whispered.

Grimmjow frowned, quirking a single blue brow upwards in confusion. "What the hell does that mean?"

"_'Administration of drugs eight times a day, medical experiments five times a day and no body alterations that would carry the risk of death'_," Orihime echoed the scientist's words robotically.

Grimmjow's eyes widened and he scratched the back of his head as if to hide his shock. "Thought you were chummy with the Shinigami, Princess."

"Not that one," she said firmly, though her voice still quivered, "They're not our enemies any more, and that was over a year ago, but I've never forgotten." She lowered her eyes, hugging her arms at the horrible memory. That man had killed his _own men_, just to get to her and Ishida-kun. Orihime had within her much capacity for forgiveness, but she had a feeling that even if that man came to her grovelling on his knees she couldn't do it. He was a monster.

_"Taichou, this isn't what we talked about!" the twelfth squad man cried out to his captain as the remains of his comrades continued to burn long after their screams had ended._

_"Bad boy. Released bombs shouldn't come back," Kurotsuchi Mayuri's cold, high pitched voice said in a mildly amused tone._

_There was a click, a boom, and the tortured scream of man betrayed by his leader._

Ulquiorra, who had appeared momentarily distracted as he stared off into the distance, now seemed to turn back to attention. He frowned at her. "You appear shaken. Rest assured, Kurotsuchi Mayuri would be unable to take you from me."

Orihime found herself stifling a snort. "I guess you'll understand how _much_ I don't like that guy when I tell you that that _is_ weirdly assuring..."

"If you're gonna be acting like a complete pussy, Ulquiorra, I suggest you get a room before I barf in your hair." Grimmjow drawled.

Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes before turning away.

Orihime looked between them. "Uh - so where are we going?"

"Szayel Aporro's labratory." Ulquiorra said immediately, his head inclined in the direction of the massive purple door.

The name 'Szayel Aporro' sounded so strange and exotic. All Orihime could think to ask was, "Who?"

Grimmjow smirked, "Our resident queer. Guess you could call him the pink haired pansy-ass version of Kurotsuchi. Espada number eight."

Orihime grimaced. An Espada version of Kurotsuchi? That couldn't be good. "Really? Is he still here?"

"Right over there." Grimmjow jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the tall pile of boulders behind him.

"Oh. Is he going to open up for us?"

"He is incapacitated."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Kurotsuchi Mayuri defeated him, and he is now paralyzed and mortally wounded." Ulquiorra elaborated calmly.

"Wha - shouldn't you be helping him?" Orihime demanded. Sure the guy sounded like a bit of a creep, but Ulquiorra and Grimmjow were hardly good, upstanding citizens themselves. "Isn't he your friend?"

Grimmjow looked at her as if she had two heads. "Are you joking or do you actually not know how stupid that question is?"

She couldn't believe it! They had an ally that had been victimized by a crazy, evil Shinigami and they were going to completely ignore him and waltz into his lab? Her sense of justice shaking its fist in outrage, Orihime scowled and ran past the two of them, heading towards the pile of boulders Grimmjow had indicated. The climb was steep, and the shark rocks occasionally bit into her bare feet, but it was fairly easy nonetheless. About halfway up, Ulquiorra appeared at her side.

"What are your intentions?" he asked, absently grabbing hold of her shoulder and steadying her as she slipped.

"I want to see him," she said firmly, brushing him off and continuing the climb.

"Why?"

"I just want to!"

And with that she ignored Ulquiorra as he shadowed her scramble over the rocks until she reached the top and the ground suddenly leveled out. There, sprawled over the concrete, lay a bloodied white figure.

Orihime approached him slowly, circling around him to see his face and flinching at the hilt-less blade embedded in his chest. She took a few hesitant steps forward, eyeing Ulquiorra to make sure he had no intention of stopping her, before kneeling at his side.

The slender figure was slumped over in an undignified sprawl. The sword in his chest had been pierced through his hand, while a separate sword that she assumed to be his lay abandoned a few feet away. With hesitant fingers, she gently brushed the pink strands of hair out of his face. She gasped.

"He's crying..." she whispered, roaming her gaze over the contorted face of the bespectacled Espada before her. His brow was furrowed in an expression of complete and utter misery, his jaw clenched in pain. His lashes and cheeks were wet with the tears he had shed. Orihime felt her heart wrench with pity.

"Of course he is," she heard Grimmjow mutter as he landed suddenly behind her, "Weak piece of shit couldn't even die with dignity."

"How can you say that?" Orihime cried, whipping around to glare with glistening eyes at the blue haired man, "He was your ally at least, wasn't he? You knew him!"

Grimmjow stood with his arms crossed and he scoffed."Yeah, I knew him to be a treacherous, slimy bastard that would have sliced you up seven ways to hell if he'd had the chance, Princess. Quit yer bitchin'."

Orihime was about to make a sharp retort when a pale hand entered her vision. She took a moment to focus on her Shun Shun Rika being held out to her. Her eyes shot up to Ulquiorra in confusion.

"Wha...?"

"Heal him, if you wish," he said, not sounding particularly bothered, "I won't stop you."

"Are you insane?" Grimmjow yelled, "I thought you were all eager to protect her from creeps wanting to do fucked up experiments and shit, but you want her to bring back _Szayel-Fucking-Aporro_?"

Ulquiorra didn't even bother to face him and kept his eyes locked with Orihime's as he said, "He is no threat to me."

Orihime hesitantly retrieved her hairpins, clutching them to her chest.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Ulquiorra nodded shortly and then turned away.

With a low growl, Grimmjow threw his hands up and seemed about to stalk off when Ulquiorra's hand clamped down on his shoulder. The sixth stared down at it as if it were a rather large and ugly slug.

"Wait here with her."

"And where the fuck are you going?" Grimmjow demanded as he shoved Ulquiorra's hand off his person.

The hand returned to its usual place in Ulquiorra's pocket. "I sensed something earlier. I'm going to investigate."

Grimmjow's narrowed blue eyes glanced rapidly between Orihime, who had her back turned and was kneeling over Szayel Aporro, and the fourth. "You aren't worried I'll take the chance to slit her throat while you're gone?"

Ulquiorra gave him a look that seemed to say '_Really now?_' before turning and walking off.

Grimmjow glared after him until Orihime tentatively called out his name.

"What?" he snapped gruffly.

"Um, do you think you could pull out the sword for me?"

"Do it yourself."

"Well, I would, but my hands..."

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes at her as if he were imagining a thousand creative ways to end her life before he walked over to her, roughly pushed her aside and then yanked the blade out of the pinked haired man's chest, ripping his hand in two in the process.

"Grimmjow!" Orihime cried, leaving out her polite honorific in her outrage as blood splattered over her knees and Szayel Aporro's mangled hand landed on the concrete with a wet splat.

"You'll just heal it anyway!" He growled at her, tossing the bloodied blade aside. It landed with a loud clatter. "And that could've been _your_ hand, so shut the fuck up."

Orihime seethed quietly as Grimmjow slouched over to one of the larger boulders and took a seat, his hands hanging between his knees as he continued to scowl at her.

Taking a deep breath and resisting the urge to give the barbaric man a piece of her mind, Orihime called forth her Rika and allowed herself to focus on restoring the sad Espada back to full health.

It was several minutes later when Grimmjow spoke.

"You have no idea how much shit you're in, do you?"

Orihime jumped as he pierced the silence. She gave him a startled look, "What?"

"Do you actually think he's letting you heal Aporro because it's what _you_ want?"

Orihime furrowed her brow in confusion, "I don't..."

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, "Let me tell you something, princess," he began, "You might think I'm saying this just to scare you, but this is a sincere warning."

Those bright blue eyes opened and pinned her in place with their sheer intensity, "You might have noticed that bastard getting more handsy with you recently."

He paused as if waiting for confirmation, so Orihime simply nodded. Ulquiorra _had_ been touching her more often.

He continued. "That's because he's slowly figuring out how much freedom he's got without Aizen here. He's starting to do whatever the hell he wants more and more."

"That's a good thing isn't it?" Orihime blurted.

Grimmjow didn't seem surprised by this and simply looked at her for a long moment.

"You really think he's just some misunderstood guy, don't you?"

Orihime chuckled, unfazed by Grimmjow's seriousness. "I don't think Ulquiorra-san is misunderstood. I think _he's_ the one who doesn't understand."

Grimmjow almost seemed to smirk for a moment. "Well you're right about that. For now, he probably has no idea what he wants. He doesn't know his head from his arse."

"So isn't it good that Aizen's out of the picture then?" Orihime insisted, "So that Ulquiorra-san can figure out what he really wants?"

"You just don't get it, do you? You interest him. He might even _like_ you. Hell, I don't know, maybe he _loves _you."

The expression of disgust and distaste that Orihime would have expected to be on Grimmjow's face at the mere mention of love did not show up. He was dead serious.

She couldn't breathe.

"Before you start assuming that that's a good thing, use your brain. Hollow are more likely to go after friends and family. People they have emotional attachments to. Why do you think I'm here? Somewhere between me pestering him for fights and locking his ass in the _Caja Negacion_ Ulquiorra started to feel something for me."

Orihime wasn't sure how to take that. Ulquiorra liked Grimmjow?

"Don't get all dewy eyed on me, bitch, the feeling is probably 'extreme dislike'. My point is, he noticed me enough to..." and here he finally scowled, "To save my life."

Orihime nodded enthusiastically, "But Grimmjow-san, that's a good thing isn't it?"

Grimmjow appeared frustrated. "You're not _listening_. With Aizen gone, he's changing his behavior. He's started to just do shit because he feels like it."

Orihime stared at him blankly. "I'm sorry Grimmjow-san, but I don't get it."

With a low growl, Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair. "Fine, you idiot, I'll quit trying to slow-walk ya to the point and cut to the chase. Here's the warning; I don't think he's figured out what he wants with you yet. Don't do anything to piss him off. Don't you do something stupid like try to escape. Don't try to defy him. Don't do _anything_ that might be the push he needs to figure out that all he really wants is to devour you."

* * *

The underground training area at Urahara's shop hadn't been so crowded in many years.

Eight bored looking individuals sat, or rather, _lounged _on the ground, various expression's of disinterest gracing their features.

A noticeably separate group was positioned next to them, although their body language suggested that they were tense and on edge. The two groups would occasionally send each other curious, or even downright suspicious looks.

And in front of them, with a wide, mischievous smile stood the shop owner himself. He didn't bother to conceal his delight at the unique audience before him and even the beautiful dark skinned woman beside him seemed mildly amused.

"My, my, this is quite the turn out!" Urahara cooed, "Nothing like a bad situation to bring people together, right Yoruichi-san?"

Yoruichi smirked. "Looks like it."

"Kisukeeeeee..." Hirako Shinji drawled loudly, picking at his ear with his pinky, "What's with this setup? I was taking a nap you know. A _special_ nap. A _well deserved_ nap. I've literally been waiting over a _century_ to take that nap."

"It's true," said Lisa, "Shinji's been going on about it for years. He said _'one day when I kill Aizen, I'm gonna sleep for three days and replay the moment over and over again in my dreams with a smile on my face'_."

"'Cept he didn't kill Aizen," Hiyori piped up, her perpetual scowl turning into a sneer.

"And he wasn't smiling," the first girl continued.

"Yeah, he was droolin'," added the second.

"Not to mention snoring."

"Like a damn pig," finished the blonde girl with a dirty look at the by now seething Shinji.

A young green haired woman in a form fitting white suite began clapping her hands enthusiastically, "Mashiro put bugs in his mouth!"

"You ungrateful bastards..." Shinji muttered angrily.

"More to the point, Kisuke," Hiyori continued before pointing an accusing finger to the group sitting a noticeable distance away, "Why the hell are _they_ here?"

Ishida Uryuu, Arisawa Tatsuki, Yasutora Sado, Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Rukia, Hitsugaya Toushirou and Matsumoto Rangiku all blinked innocently.

"Now, now, Hiyori-san," Urahara cooed, waving his hands in a placating gesture, "There's no need for hostility just yet -"

"Like hell there isn't! You think just 'cause we helped 'em kick Aizen's ass we signed up to hang out with a bunch of stinkin' Shinigami?!"

"Well, no, but..."

"And _humans_! Ugh! We don't associate with humans unless we absolutely have to, ya hear?!"

"Yes, yes, I _know_ but-"

"And why'd we have to come to your training area anyway? Our's is bigger!"

"Well, that's debatable..." Urahara mumbled.

Uryuu pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh and got to his feet, coming to stand next to the bumbling candy salesman.

"Inoue Orihime has been kidnapped," he announced, immediately silencing the entire hall.

"Again," Urahara added snidely after a moment of silence.

"Yes," Uryuu seethed, eyeing Urahara in clear irritation, "Again."

"Orihime-chan is in trouble?" Shinji asked, leaning forward and frowning heavily, "I thought Ichigo rescued her?"

"Well he did, but then she got taken again."

"Yeah, but, like, the whole point of him going to Hueco Mundo in the first place was to save her," Hiyori said, "So what the hell happened?"

"He left her alone with Ishida-san and the two of them were ambushed," Urahara explained.

"So this is your fault?" Shinji accused wildly, narrowing his eyes at the flustered Quincy, "You let my dear Orihime-chan get captured? By who?"

Ten minutes and several more accusations and squabbles later, the entire situation had been cleared up. Rukia and Renji's presence were glossed over as they had been of the original Orihime-rescue-team to begin with, but Rangiku and Toushirou were scrutinized less than kindly. The voluptuous Shinigami seemed particularly lacklustre and barely responded to the rapid-fire questions sent her way, responding with single words or shrugs, her long hair occasionally failing to hide her red-rimmed eyes. It was left to her short tempered Captain to explain that she and him had spent a few nights under Orihime's roof and wanted to ensure her safety.

_No_, they were _not_ spies for Soul Society.

_No_, they would _not _turn Orihime over to Soul Society the moment they got her in their 'slimy clutches'.

_No_, they were _not_ secretly there to ascertain the Vizard's weaknesses, and _yes_, they _would _take it for granted that there were none if that was what the Vizard wanted...

No, Mashiro could NOT refer to him as 'Snowy'.

And 'Dickhead' was certainly unacceptable as well!

Finally the collective eyes of the Vizard settled on the one human without any powers. Tatsuki seemed to shrink back into herself.

"What about her then?" Lisa asked, "She's just a powerless human, isn't she?"

No one missed the way Tatsuki winced at assessment.

"Ah, but my dear Lisa-san, Arisawa-san is our secret weapon!"

"Eh?" Shinji asked, resting an elbow on his knee and tilting his head in confusion, "She feels like an average girl to me, Kisuke." Then, noticing Tatsuki's saddened eyes, added a little wink, "A very pretty girl though!"

"Right on all counts, Hirako-san, but more importantly, Arisawa-san has a spiritual link with Inoue Orihime."

All eyes fell on Tatsuki with interest.

"How strong?" Rukia asked.

"Strong enough to be able to tell when she's in Soul Society or in the Living World."

A collective sound of appreciation swept through the group.

"And Hueco Mundo?" Kensei asked.

"No," Tatsuki answered for herself, "Then I can't sense her at all."

"Perfect," Shinji said with a creepy grin, "I take it you've got something else to show us then, Kisuke."

"You know me too well Hirako-san!" Urahara gushed before digging into his traditional gi and withdrawing with a triumphant flourish...

"A bicycle helmet?" Rukia murmured.

"Where the hell did he keep that thing?" Renji asked with a truly puzzled frown.

"Arisawa-san, please come up here and put this on!" Urahara asked, flashing around a simple looking, plain white bicycle helmet. Tatsuki got to her feet and hesitantly approached the suspiciously enthusiastic man, occasionally shooting her intrigued audience nervous looks.

"What does it do?" she asked warily.

"Just put it on and you'll see!"

Not particularly reassured, Tatsuki fixed the helmet over her head and tied the straps under her chin. Feeling a bit foolish, she asked, "Now what?"

"Now try and sense Inoue-san."

Tatsuki focused, and barely five seconds later there was a collective gasp from the crowd.

"What?" She asked suspiciously.

"Now that is cool," Hiyori said, a rare hint of appreciation in her eyes, "Nice job Kisuke."

"Of course _you_ would think so," Shinji griped.

"Shuddap, dickhead."

"It's kind of creepy," Rukia noted, tilting her head to the side, "But I guess it has its own charm."

"What?" Tatsuki asked frantically, pulling the helmet from her head, only to be met with the same blank white surface. "Huh?"

"It's lights up with little messed up demons and shit when you focus on Inoue," Renji explained for her.

"Now, now, that's only when she _can't_ sense Inoue-san. There's a different image for when she can. And a homing system that will allow us to gauge how far away she is and hopefully help us track her." Urahara sounded very pleased with himself.

"So when the helmet is red and scary we can assume that Orihime-chan is in Hueco Mundo?" Shinji asked.

"Correct."

"Well, what are we waiting for!"

* * *

Nel flinched as the footsteps neared, covering her head with her hands. Nel was terrified. Dondochaka and Pesche were nowhere to be found. Itsygo had disappeared. Nnoitora was dead.

_Nnoitora..._

She had been so scared when she woke up all alone. She had never been alone before.

But now someone was coming and she wished they would go away. She didn't want to get hurt again. She shook in terror. A shadow fell over her.

"Neliel Tu Oderschvank..." A man's voice murmured over her head. Nel buried deeper into the crevice she was hiding in, too terrified to look up.

She heard the rustling of cloth and whimpered, unable to resist the urge to peek at what the man was doing. A pair of startling green eyes met hers as she took in the pale Espada crouched before her.

"U...Ulukiora-thama..." she whispered.

"You remember me," he stated, looking her over slowly, "How interesting."

"Nel couldn't find Dondochaka and Pesche," she tried to explain.

"They are most likely dead."

Nel's lip began to quiver.

"Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to live."

He rose to his feet, drawing his sword in one fluid motion.

Nel began to cry. Loudly.

"Pleathe don't," she wailed, "Ulukiora-thama! Nel is sorry! Nel promithes to be good! Pleathe don't kill Nel, Ulukiora-thama!"

She stopped immediately as the tip of a blade ducked beneath her chin, hovering over her throat. "Hush," Ulquiorra said simply, "You're annoying me."

Fat tears and snot fell freely over the little girls face and she stared up at the fourth with wide, pleading eyes. Ulquiorra seemed to consider her.

"I cannot leave witnesses who have seen my face," he said after a long moment. Nel sniffled pathetically.

"Nel wouldn't tell!"

"You are an ally of Kurosaki Ichigo. A traitor."

Nel lowered her eyes in shame. "Nel just wanted to play. Nel just wanted to have fun."

Ulquiorra closed his eyes for a moment before sheathing his sword. Nel let out the breath she had been holding.

"You will be silent. You will not cry. You will not complain. Do you understand?"

Nel nodded fiercely. Anything, _anything_ to not be killed. Ulquiorra bent down and picked her up under her arms, bringing her to his chest, where Nel immediately buried her face in the crook of his neck, shaking with silent sobs.

* * *

Orihime was still concentrating on the bright orange shield bellow her and considering Grimmjow's words when the man loudly proclaimed Ulquiorra's return.

"What the hell is _that_?"

Orihime followed Grimmjow's stare and gasped at the sight of Ulquiorra Schiffer cradling a small, green haired child.

"Nel-chan!" she exclaimed, rising to her feet and rushing over to where Ulquiorra stood. He gently extricated the little girl from his neck placed her into Orihime's waiting arms before sliding his hands back into his pockets. Nel was shaking like a leaf as she clung to Orihime's chest like a tiny monkey.

"What happened to you?" she asked the girl in a worried tone.

Nel raised her face and big worried eyes blinked at her before she raised her finger to her lips and whispered, "Nel has to be quiet, or Ulukiora-thama will kill Nel."

Orihime's jaw dropped and she sent wide, accusing eyes up at Ulquiorra. He stared back at her, looking completely unbothered.

"You _threatened_ a little girl?"

Ulquiorra blinked at her slowly. "Obviously."

Grimmjow shook his head, "Good. That brat has a serious yapper on her."

"'That brat', Grimmjow, is Neliel Tu Oderschvank, former third Espada."

Grimmjow's eyes widened and he immediately rose to his feet, stomping over to Orihime and unceremoniously yanking Nel from her arms. He held the squirming child out in front of him, examining her from the top of her cartoonish hollow mask to the bottom of her wriggling toes.

"I thought Nnoitora _killed_ her? What the hell is this shit?" he demanded.

"An interesting anomaly. Now put her down before she begins screaming again and I am forced to do something unpleasant."

Orihime once again seized custody of the little girl, pulling her from Grimmjow's unresisting arms and into a protective embrace before glaring at Ulquiorra. "You will not!"

Ulquiorra met her gaze unflinchingly. "Focus on your work. You are wasting time."

Orihime waited for him to put some distance between them before she placed Nel down on the ground next to the bright healing shield and once again sank to her knees. Nel alternated between huddling into her lap and toddling around Grimmjow's feet in some silent game only she seemed to understand. Ulquiorra stood with his back turned, seemingly staring off into space.

It was some time before the pink haired man stirred. Orihime leant over him in concern, her hand sinking smoothly through her shield and coming to rest gently over his forehead.

"Are you awake, Szayel-san?" She asked softly.

Slowly, amber eyes struggled open to take in Orihime's face, illuminated behind the golden glow of her shield, making the young woman shine like a divine being.

"Are you an angel?" the man whispered in a cracked voice, tears brimming and spilling through thin lashes and over ashen cheeks. Orihime's heart melted.

And then Ulquiorra's heel shattered her shield and connected firmly with the back of Szayel's neck. His golden eyes rolled back into his head as he once again slumped into unconsciousness.

"What are you doing?!" Orihime shrieked as the golden shards of her healing shield scattered into the air before dissipating fully. Ayame and Shuno returned to her hairpins as she angrily rose to her feet to confront the completely unrepentant form of Ulquiorra.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded, her hands clenched into fists at her side. Ulquiorra seemed to size her up as his indifferent gaze swept over her.

"Don't raise your hackles at me, I never had any intention of bringing Szayel Aporro with us."

"So you just attack a defenseless man?"

"Yes," he answered simply. Orihime floundered. Grimmjow's warning from earlier briefly flashed through her mind, but in her anger she shoved it aside.

"Y-you can't just _do_ that, Ulquiorra! You can't just threaten little kids and drag people around and kick them when they're down!"

She felt her breath leave her when Ulquiorra disappeared and reappeared less than an inch away from her, his nose almost brushing hers as he glared into her wide eyes. Orihime reflexively took several steps back, but Ulquiorra's body followed hers until the back of her legs pressed up against a large boulder. Nel whimpered, crawling over to hide behind Grimmjow as the sixth Espada rose to his feet, looking ready to intervene should things turn ugly. Orihime's heart began to pound. She trembled, her chest heaving as fear fought with rage.

Ulquiorra's warm breath spilled over her cheeks, leaving a trail of red. "I can, and I have. Don't presume to have power over me, woman, or I will demonstrate for you -"

He cut off abruptly, his eyes widening.

Ulquiorra's head swung to the right, his nose brushing against her forehead as he did so. In her peripheral, Orihime could see Grimmjow do the same, both Espada staring directly at a specific point in space.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra barked, causing Orihime to jump in fright.

"I know," Grimmjow said before grabbing hold of Nel, who was clutching his hakama and disappearing in a loud burst of sonido. Orihime opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on.

Before she could, she squeaked in surprise as Ulquiorra spun her around and pulled her against him, his large palm pressing against her mouth and his arm circling her waist in an iron embrace. He pulled her backwards with him and her feet stumbled against the rocks until Ulquiorra ducked behind a massive slab of granite. Orihime whimpered against the near painful grip on her face, flashes of Nnoitora's long, bloodied fingers forcing their way into her mouth assaulting her. But Ulquiorra fingers were simply digging into her cheek and she felt his head move, his mouth coming to rest beside her ear.

"Be silent now," he murmured, "and remember that I can kill you before your reiatsu has a chance to give us away."

Orihime didn't even have the chance to wonder what the hell he was on about before she heard the unmistakeable sound of space ripping open.

A garganta was opening.

* * *

A/N: I regret nothing.


	7. Mannequins

A/N: Holy crap guys, I'm blown away by all the support this story is getting! We hit 100 followers a few days ago. Huzzah!

That being said, I just need to address an issue one of my reviewers brought up: This story will NOT contain rape. I usually hate to give up that kind of info, since I feel it kills the suspense, but after some thought I figured keeping you guys in suspense of something like _that_ might not be all that great anyway. I mean, I like to flirt with around with the darker elements of romance, but that's just not my cup of tea.

Now, with that taken care of, enjoy!

**Mannequins:**

* * *

On the other side of Las Noches, in a dark, half collapsed room that had once been part of his domain, Grimmjow held his hand over the squirming little girl in his arms, cursing under his breath. He hated this - having to hide away like a rat in a hole, in a place that had once been his kingdom to rule. It went against everything he was, everything he had fought his whole un-life to achieve. Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez had become a coward.

"Quit movin', pipsqueak," he growled when Neliel's hollow mask jerked painfully into his chin. This only made her attempts to escape more adamant, until Grimmjow found himself pulling her little neck into a chokehold and applying just enough pressure to force her to go still.

Satisfied, he said, "I could just as easily let you go and get yourself caught by whatever Shinigami are on their way here, but I don't trust you not to squeal about me. So sit still before I break your neck and save myself a whole lotta trouble. Understand?"

When Neliel nodded her head, he released her and pushed the tiny Arrancar off of him. He still couldn't believe the once great and powerful third Espada had been reduced to this little bundle of snot and tears. Nnoitora, that bastard, hadn't even done her the dignity of ending her life. Grimmjow wasn't exactly what he could call an honourable man, but he liked to think he was above this sort of shit. She got to her feet and dusted herself off with her chubby hands before nervously taking her seat next to him.

"Is Ulukiora-thama gonna hurt that nice lady?" she asked in a tiny whisper.

Grimmjow looked down into big, worried eyes and felt his lip curl. Even when she'd been regular-sized she'd had those same bleeding heart eyes pinned on him. As if he had any use for some random bitch's concern. "Damned if I know, girly."

Neliel's lip began to wobble about in a dangerous manner and he found himself rolling his eyes. "He probably won't. He's got a thing for her."

The little girl's worry disappeared and she suddenly smiled secretively. "A sexth thing?"

Grimmjow did a double-take. Apparently, as little as she was, there was still a grown woman inside there somewhere. "Wouldn't surprise me," he answered neutrally. Nel nodded and hugged her knees to her.

"Good. I don't think anyone should hurt a person like Orihime."

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed as he realized that in a twisted way, he agreed. He didn't see the point in bashing around people weaker than himself, even if they were too stupid to be alive. Not like those Arrancar bitches he'd caught having their fun while Ulquiorra was off fighting _his _prey.

But that didn't mean he'd be rushing to her fucking rescue! As far as he was concerned, he had repaid his debt to her when he warned the clueless woman about Ulquiorra's less-than-noble intentions. And the dumbass had disregarded his warning entirely. Maybe now she'd learn her lesson the hard way.

He tensed up as he felt intruders step foot into Las Noches, baring his teeth in frustration. This was bullshit - he should be out there, fighting whatever dipshits thought it was now safe to just stroll into _his_ home.

But Grimmjow was more than just a mindless animal - he could think and strategize better than most would expect. And he knew that even if the little princess healed him to full strength and he found some way to swallow his disgust and fight alongside Ulquiorra...eventually Soul Society would bear down on them with their full force and there would be no chance of survival. If they caught whiff of the fact that several Espada had survived, there would be a manhunt the likes of which Hueco Mundo had never seen and there would be nothing left for him but a life on the run or certain death. He'd be damned if he let it come to that. He still had shit to do, people to kill.

He could only hope that the pale freak had some sort of ace up his sleeve, because as much as he knew what _not_ to do, that was the end of his forward thinking.

Ulquiorra _always_ had a plan. He might have had people fooled with his 'hail Aizen-sama', kiss-ass attitude, but the little shit was a scheming manipulator under all that. Always _looking _and _analyzing_ with those creepy fucking eyes of his. Grimmjow had seem right through him, even when the other Espada dismissed him as just 'Aizen's dog'. As if having a weird-ass desire to please Aizen was any reason not to see the guy as a threat. The shithead had kept his second release a _secret_ for fuck's sake - there couldn't possibly be a non-threatening reason behind _that_ little omission.

And now, _damn it all to hell_, he had to have faith that he had a plan to save their asses. Whether Grimmjow would _like_ this plan was another matter entirely.

"Who's coming?" Neliel whispered, and he realized she was clinging to his leg with her puny arms, eyes wide with terror. Grimmjow scowled, casting his mind out to the two alien presences in his domain.

"Not a fucking clue."

* * *

Orihime trembled in Ulquiorra's grip, fighting back the panic that came from being pulled flush against his body. When the other Arrancar had held her like this, she'd been too worried about Kurosaki-kun to pay much attention to her own situation. But now there was nothing to distract her from the solid form against her back, or the slight rise and fall of Ulquiorra's chest as he breathed.

_Why does he breath?_ she wondered for a split second. He probably didn't need to. Force of habit maybe?

A slight tightening of the arm over her stomach brought her back to attention, and she realized she could hear footsteps echoing from a little way away. She thought she could sense two presences. Whoever they were could be her only hope of rescue.

And all she could think was that her butt was pressed against Ulquiorra's crotch. The thought made her cringe, and she began struggling against the Espada, trying to at least get herself into a less inappropriate position, pushing against the arm around her with very little results. Her eyes grew wet as Ulquiorra's blunt, black nails dug into her cheek in warning and she whimpered into his palm, her hands reflexively flying to his wrist to try and pry him off.

The hand holding her waist trailed upwards slightly until the tips of his fingers just brushed the underside of her breasts and he pressed into her ribcage, forcing her even further against him. The hand over her mouth tilted her head backwards until her neck arched over his shoulder and his hair tickled her cheek. She could see his jaw out of the corner of her eye. He turned his head into her, his voice whispered almost imperceptibly into her ear, "Hush and be still. I'm trying to listen."

Orihime, upon hearing that, was tempted to begin struggling with all the strength in her body, if only to inconvenience him out of spite. But self-preservation kicked in, and she forced herself to remain still and try to hear what Ulquiorra was so focused on, her hands loosening their hold over his wrist somewhat as he loosened his hold on her face .

She could hear voices...

_"...ace still gives me the creeps."_

_"Tell me about it. When the hell did Aizen find the time to build this place anyway?"_

_"Beats me. Guess that'll just be another mystery for taichou to solve."_

_"Right, once he gets done playing doctor with a bunch of corpses."_

Orihime listened with wide eyes as the two unfamiliar male voices echoed over the destroyed eighth Espada's domain. The two Shinigami could be heard walking near the area of the giant purple door. Ulquiorra shifted behind her, and she could feel his lips against her hair as he quietly said, "Hn. Just two weaklings."

Orihime tugged at the wrist pressed against her jaw in what she hoped was a respectful manner, but Ulquiorra ignored her. Narrowing her eyes in anger, she did the unthinkable.

She began to lick his palm.

It seemed to take him a moment to realize what she was doing, but when he did he immediately released her face, staring down at the glistening saliva on his hand with an unreadable expression.

"That is very distracting," he murmured.

Orihime glared ahead. "Serves you right."

She couldn't see how he reacted to her petulance, but he must have sensed that she had no immediate intention to begin screaming for help, because his hand came to settle on her breast bone. She was sure he could feel her frantically beating heart.

"What are you going to do?" she whispered, turning her head and catching a glimpse of his lips.

He didn't answer for a long moment, and Orihime could only guess that he was still deciding on his next course of action. Finally, he said, "I'm not going to do anything."

"R-really?" she stuttered without bothering to hide her surprise.

"Yes. Because you will."

Orihime froze, and she felt Ulquiorra's body tense along with her as if he anticipated her defiance.

"What do you mean?"

"You are going to incapacitate them for me."

"I won't!" she said as firmly as she could while still whispering.

"You _will_."

"You don't control me, Ulquiorra, and I won't let you make me hurt people!" She only hoped she sounded brave and resolute despite her obvious trembling.

"I don't have time to correct your false suppositions, woman. So I will simply say this; if you don't incapacitate the Shinigami, then I _will_. And it will be a far less kind fate for them."

Orihime chewed her lip, squeezing her eyes shut against the panic that suddenly enveloped her. She really had no choice then. If the options were to hurt them herself or let Ulquiorra kill them, she could only do one thing.

"B-but," she whimpered, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks, "I'm not strong enough. You'll end up having to hurt them anyway."

To her utter shock, Ulquiorra let out what sounded like a scoff, his exhale tickling her hair, "Spare me, those two will be no match for you. I am surprised Soul Society even sent through such low level fighters into Las Noches. Arrogance on their part, no doubt."

She shook her head. She couldn't do it. Not even to save their lives - she'd just screw it up and they might even suffer more because of her. "I _can't_."

"I believe differently."

"You've been wrong before..."

"This is not a debate," he said firmly, but then continued anyway, "And I have only ever been wrong when I've underestimated you, not the other way around."

Orihime sniffled, and allowed a moment for his words to sink in. How was it possible that the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her had come from _his_ mouth? It was surreal. It was _wrong_.

And it _shouldn't_ have been reassuring...It _shouldn't _have comforted her...

But if a man as cynical as Ulquiorra thought she could do it then maybe...

"Okay," she said quietly, "Just wait here and leave it to me."

She felt him nod and then he released his grip on her, his steel arms falling from her waist and chest. Orihime turned to face him and found him regarding her seriously. She expected a threat along the lines of what he would do if she messed up or tried to betray him. Instead, his hand lifted and Orihime had to stifle the reflex to flinch. It came to rest on her cheek, where it brushed away the single rogue tear that had managed to fall. Orihime did her best not to flee immediately, shocked by the tender gesture.

He gazed into her eyes for a long moment.

"Stop dawdling, woman," he said.

Orihime needed no further encouragement as she all but scurried away, almost completely distracted from the seriousness of her mission as Grimmjow's words once again echoed through her mind.

_"Hell, I don't know, maybe he even loves you..."_

Oh dear god.

It was at the realization that Ulquiorra had possibly _teased_ her just then that she slipped on a rock and found herself tumbling down the side of the excavation site and into the path of the two gaping Shinigami with an undignified cry.

"What the-?!" the one on the left cried, jumping back a step in shock and placing his hand on the hilt of his weapon. The other simply stood still and stared on in shock.

"A woman?" he said disbelievingly.

"Are you an Arrancar?" the other demanded, though his voice shook.

Orihime rose to her feet with a wince, painfully aware that Ulquiorra had probably just witnessed that absolutely _humiliating_ tumble. She placed a hand on her smarting bottom, rubbing at her bruised tailbone, "Ah ta ta ta..."

"Wait a minute, she's a human!" The one in front of her exclaimed, "Kenji, it's that Ryoka girl!"

"Inoue Orihime!"

"Yeah!"

Orihime looked like a deer in the headlights for a long moment before she remembered her silent and potentially murderous audience and pulled herself together. "Um, yes, hello, I am she - I mean I'm Orihime! Inoue Orihime, nice to meet you."

She winced internally. She was supposed to be kicking their butts, not making conversation! Oh good grief, Ulquiorra was going to swoop in any moment and kill all three of them.

"Are you okay?" the man closest to her asked with a concerned look, approaching her slowly. "You know everyone thinks you're missing, right?"

Orihime waved her hands emphatically. "I'm fine really!" she cried, shrinking back as he came closer. Oh, she was scared! She was going to screw up. She couldn't do this.

She looked into the man's intrigued and worried eyes and swallowed. She had no choice. To save them from Ulquiorra, she _had_ to do this.

Orihime's hand was on his wrist before thought had a chance to catch up with instinct and she flipped him over his own head with a simple, yet deadly twist. She heard the man's wrist crack, but didn't have any time to worry about that as his partner cried out in shock and lunged for her.

"You crazy bitch!" he yelled, his hand going for his blade a second too late. Orihime's fist connected squarely between his eyes. The man fell back without another word. Before her conscience could catch up with her, Orihime turned her attention back to her final opponent who had struggled to his feet and was glaring at her murderously, cradling his wrist.

"I'm really sorry for this," she said quietly, before sinking her elbow into his stomach. As he hunched over in pain, she connected her head solidly with his and the man joined his friend on the floor, lights out.

She stared down at their unconscious forms numbly. "I did it..."

She stood in disbelief for a moment and then yelped as Ulquiorra appeared next to her with the characteristic static sound of sonido. He glanced down at her handiwork.

"Impressive. I once again underestimated your abilities. I assumed you would utilize your Shun Shun Rika to defeat them."

"I have a blackbelt..." she said breathlessly, still staring in wide eyed shock at her two victims.

"I would never have guessed." Ulquiorra rolled one of the Shinigami onto his back with the toe of his boot and studied him. "As I suspected. Do you see that patch on his uniform? These men are from Kurotsuchi Mayuri's squad. No doubt they were here to make preparations for their captain."

"Oh," Orihime said. Then -

"I...that was so _easy_."

Ulquiorra turned his gaze up to her and stepped away from the fallen man. "I noticed. I trust you will not bother me with your insecurities any longer."

Orihime's face contorted in agony and it was all she could do to hide behind her hands as the tears began to fall. "O-oh god! I attacked them! I _hurt_ two innocent men! When they wake up they're going to think I'm a...a _monster_!"

Ulquiorra's long fingers wrapped around her wrists and pried her hands away from her face. He stared into her wet eyes, looking thoroughly annoyed with her. "Enough of this nonsense. Anyone who would confuse you with a monster is either a fool or extremely naive about the nature of this world. It seems you are both."

She sniffled pathetically, shaking her head. "I hurt them..."

"Because it was the kinder alternative for them. Honestly woman, do you lose perspective so easily? I am the one who forced you into this. Your loathing would be better directed at me than yourself."

"Why are you being so nice to me?!" she suddenly demanded, wrenching her wrists free from his grip and stepping back, glaring at him suspiciously. Ulquiorra frowned. His hands dropped to his sides.

"I am merely stating the facts."

"Don't lie! The whole time I've known you you've done nothing but tell me how pathetic I am and try to manipulate me into serving Aizen and make me feel horrible about myself! And now you're saying all this stuff like you're trying to make me feel better, so excuse me if I don't buy that!" she yelled.

His eyes drifted away, as if he had grown tired of looking at her. His hands returned to his pockets. "If you are so foolish as to confuse my behavior with kindness then you obviously haven't been paying attention. There are many things about you that I consider pathetic. You belong to Aizen-sama. You are naive. And you are not a monster. Those are simply the facts I have given you. They are not up for interpretation. They are the truth as my eyes have seen it."

She scowled, wiping her glistening cheeks furiously. "We both know your eyes don't see everything."

And Ulquiorra's gaze snapped back to her so fast it nearly knocked the breath out of her. "They see you."

Orihime paled, frozen in place with her sleeve pressed against her nose. He was looking at her like...oh god, no one had ever, _ever_ looked at her like that. He was going to attack her, eat her alive. She was a dead woman walking. She was-

Another burst of static sounded out next to her and Grimmjow's imposing form stepped between them. He didn't appear to notice what he had just walked into, as his attention was on the two Shinigami. He whistled. "Never thought you had it in you, princess."

The moment was broken. Ulquiorra had already turned away and was headed for the door. Grimmjow shoved Nel into her arms and slouched after him. Orihime held the little girl to her, feeling numb and exhausted.

For the first time, she wasn't sure if she could honestly claim to be unafraid.

* * *

Szayel Aporro's lab was like a set from a horror movie - the stereotypical evil scientist's lair. As Orihime stared aghast at the corpses suspended from the ceiling, she began to question her decision to help the man.

"Told you," Grimmjow muttered over his shoulder after catching the look of revulsion on her face. "Having second thoughts now?"

Orihime snapped herself out of her daze and shook her head furiously. "N-_no_. Even if he's done some bad things, no one deserves to be cut up and dissected." Which is _exactly_ what the crazy Shinigami captain would have done to the helpless Espada, if not worse. Just because Szayel Aporro was clearly an insane sadist didn't mean _she_ had to be.

And he had been _crying_...

No, she refused to regret saving him.

Grimmjow shook his head in disbelief and continued following after Ulquiorra between isles of tall glass tanks filled with strange liquids and what appeared to be bubbling chemistry sets. She held her nose against an ungodly stench that permeated the area, like rotting flesh mixed with a wretched chemical smell. Orihime hurried after the two men, terrified to be left behind in such a gruesome place. Nel didn't seem to share her fear as she craned her neck to look around with an expression of interest.

Ulquiorra twisted and turned throughout the large room as if he knew the place. He finally came to a stop in front of an iron door and what appeared to be a large entrance keypad beside it. His fingers danced over the numbers, entering a code too quickly for her eyes to see, before the door slid open with a hiss of compressed air. Steam momentary clouded her vision of the interior, and when it dissipated, she jumped back in fright. Nel 'ooohed' appreciatively.

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow entered without a backwards glance, and she was left to trail in after them, staring around with wide eyes and a slack jaw at the long room in front of her.

The room was as dark as the main lab and lit only by an eerie green glow emanating from similar glass tanks as she had seen outside. The tanks were situated on top of the sturdy counter lining the walls, and they all extended into the ceiling. In front of each one was a separate console.

And suspended within them were over thirty bodies.

Orihime stared at their closed eyes in horror, just awaiting the moment they would snap open and look at her. When Grimmjow stopped in front of a particular pod, she gave a short shriek.

There, in a tank labelled with a large '6', was a sleeping, naked Grimmjow. Grimmjow shot her an annoyed look and Orihime took a longer moment to examine the lookalike. There was something...off about it.

"Your mask! And your hollow hole! He doesn't have them!"

Grimmjow nodded. "Artificial bodies designed especially for the Espada to mask our reiatsu."

"And make you look human..." she said in awe.

Orihime jumped again at a loud gurgling sound and looked over to where Ulquiorra stood, draining the tank with _his_ lookalike of liquid. Her eyes, to her shame, were unable to stop themselves from being drawn between the slender, but muscular forms legs and she hastily placed her hand over her eyes in a manner that cut off her view of the body's lower half. She had seen a shirtless Ulquiorra before, but that had been with a giant, bleeding hole in his chest while he was trying to kill her friends and his bottom half had been covered in fur. This was a lot more embarrassing.

She stepped closer curiously, examining the strange view of Ulquiorra without his helmet or his iconic tear tracks. The man in the tank would look completely human were it not for his deathly pale skin. He looked like a porcelain doll, with inky hair and fine features.

"See something you like?"

Orihime yelped as Grimmjow chuckled into her ear. "Don't let him catch you staring now, he might get the wrong idea."

Nel spoke up from her position on Orihime's hip. "A sexth idea?"

Grimmjow cuffed her impatiently over the head as Orihime turned beet red and hastily looked anywhere but at either men.

And her gaze fell upon someone she recognized.

"Look!" she pointed, "It's Older Nel-chan!"

Both males turned at this proclamation and stepped closer to Nel's artificial body to examine it.

"You had nice tits back then, girly," Grimmjow said, scratching the back of his head casually, "Shame."

Nel didn't waste time. She leapt from Orihime's arms and latched onto Grimmjow's neck, slapping his head with her little hands. "Pervert!" she screamed, "Molethter! Paedophile!"

Grimmjow reached up and attempted to wrestle the raucous child from his back, but Nel evaded his clumsy hands expertly, continuing to wail expletives that made Orihime blush in between her efforts to calm the girl down. "For fuck's sake, shut _up_!" Grimmjow barked, still trying to pry her off.

Nel cut off abruptly when Ulquiorra plucked her from Grimmjow's person by the scruff of her neck and held her in front of him. He sent her a withering look.

"What did I tell you?" he said in a low, deadly voice.

Nel shrank into herself and covered her mouth with her hands. "Oops," she said between her fingers in a muffled whisper. Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes at her for a long moment before eventually pulling her closer and positioning her on his hip. Nel sat quietly, reduced to having a long glaring contest with Grimmjow. Ulquiorra's other hand reached out and pressed several choice buttons on the console in front of Nel's tank. The green, luminous liquid began to drain.

Orihime approached him. "What are you doing?"

He gave her a look.

She sighed. "What I meant was...will Nel-chan be able to...um...fit?"

She gave the voluptuous woman's body a sideways glance and felt heat rise to her cheeks. Grimmjow smirked. Nel bristled.

"These bodies are designed to respond to the unique signature of each Arrancar. So long as she possesses the same reiatsu, no matter how diminished, she should, as you say, 'fit'."

"Oh. Okay."

He turned his attention back to the now drained tank and pressed a few more buttons that had the glass sliding slowly up into the ceiling. Nel's older body, eerily, remained standing and completely still. If Orihime could not tell that it had real skin, it would have looked like a store mannequin.

She fidgeted awkwardly. "Ulquiorra-san?"

A slight tilt of Ulquiorra's head in her direction let her know that he was listening, but he didn't look at her. She still wasn't completely comfortable being near or speaking to her captor so soon after their earlier encounter, even if the little girl on his hip diminished his intimidating appearance. But there were pressing matters she needed to bring to attention - especially since Ulquiorra's eyes seemed to be leisurely taking in Nel's more developed counterpart. Did _he_ like what he saw?

No...those weren't the eyes of a lusting man, right? More like an inspector or something. But what did she know, she had never even _seen_ a lusting man!

Unless that look he had given her earlier could count... She found herself desperately studying his face, trying to guess what he was thinking as he looked over a gorgeous naked woman.

"What is it?" He had finally looked at her, and she realized she had lost track of time staring at him.

"Oh, well, what about, you know..." Her eyes flickered between the ground and the numerous naked bodies around her. "Clothes?"

"You scared of a little skin?" Grimmjow mocked, grinning at her in a decidedly unfriendly manner. She scowled at him, but before she could formulate a biting response Ulquiorra interjected.

"Relax, woman."

He took Nel by the waist and placed her on the floor as he leaned down and pressed another button. Underneath Nel's tank, a metal drawer shot open.

Orihime blinked and leaned forward. Inside the drawer was a tiny silver capsule. Ulquiorra retrieved it and Orihime watched in silence as he clicked down on the head and then tossed the capsule to the ground. In a puff of smoke, a massive suitcase appeared.

Orihime's jaw dropped, her mind completely blown. Her fears and her composure temporarily took a dive out a window. "That is so _cool_! How did you do that?!"

If she was reading him correctly, Ulquiorra almost seemed amused by her enthusiasm.

"I believe I told you to relax," he said, although there was no bite in his voice, "The capsule is linked to a dimension of empty space."

Orihime gestured wildly at the suitcase that looked like it would be big enough to sleep two men in and cried, "How does that even _work?_"

"I don't know. Szayel Aporro is the only one who might fully understand the mechanics behind the device." When Orihime continued to gape as if she had just seen a smurf emerge from Grimmjow's butt, he shook his head indulgently. "You are capable of rejecting events and bringing back the dead, and yet a mere toy astounds you." He sounded slightly nonplussed.

Orihime realized he had a point and sheepishly cleared her throat. "Right, sorry."

While Ulquiorra unzipped the suitcase and Orihime and Nel crowded around to see inside, Grimmjow began to drain his tank.

Ten minutes later, after Orihime had been thoroughly amazed by the various fake ID's and passports, unfamiliar gadgets and surprisingly stylish human clothes packed into Nel's suitcase, the two male Espada had entered their human bodies (while Orihime turned away and Nel watched with interest) and had dressed themselves in the clothes from their own supplies.

When Orihime turned around, she was met with the completely alien sight of Ulquiorra in a sophisticated grey trench coat, black suit pants and black dress shoes. And yet, despite the fact that his tattoos and helmet were missing, and that he was dressed completely differently, Orihime could never have mistaken him for someone else. The inky hair and indifferent expression were all the same, as was the familiar sight of his hands placed casually in his pockets.

Orihime found herself smiling despite herself. "That outfit unexpectedly suits you."

Ulquiorra didn't respond, but she was almost certain she saw his eyebrow quirk slightly. As wary of him as she now was, he really did look like a handsome, dapper gentleman. Or maybe a secret agent!

She could just picture him in some high society event, sitting quietly in the corner observing the guests drinking and dancing, completely oblivious to the fact that their alcohol-loosened lips were spilling vital information to the enemy in their midst's. He'd callously reject the many woman who approached him, his mind only on his mission. He'd nurse his drink slowly - no professional would ever do anything more, and as the guests around him grew ever less-cautious, he would be more alert than ever.

But maybe he'd catch sight of someone else in the room - a clumsy, flustered waitress in a waistcoat serving pastries. He shouldn't have noticed her, but as their eyes locked across the room, he found himself gesturing her closer...

Orihime jerked out of her fantasy when Grimmjow's suitcase reverted to capsule form with a loud pop. Grimmjow couldn't have looked more different to Ulquiorra had he tried. He was dressed in a loose pair of jeans, brown combat boots and a black leather jacket covering a white shirt. While Ulquiorra would have fit in at a business function, Grimmjow looked ready to lead a motorcycle rally.

"What about your sword?" she asked him, pointing to the glaringly obvious blade hanging at his side. With another glance at Ulquiorra, she realized she could just see the tip of Murcielago peeking out from under his coat.

"Human's can't see it," Grimmjow answered, "It's still in spirit form." Orihime nodded vaguely. The technicalities of all this baffled her.

Only Nel was left.

"I don't believe Szayel Aporro made any alterations to the body," Ulquiorra told the little girl seriously. Orihime briefly wondered if that was why Ulquiorra had been staring at the Older Nel so shamelessly earlier - to see if he could spot any danger. The child nodded slowly, as if she wasn't entirely sure where he was heading with that train of thought.

The little girl was answered when Ulquiorra picked her up underneath her arms and unceremoniously shoved her through the artificial body's torso. Orihime's gut clenched in concern as she watched Nel's shocked and frightened face disappear along with the rest of her. The three of them observed in anticipation, waiting for the moment the body would awaken.

Neliel's eyes snapped open, and with a gasp her older body flailed out of the tank.

Orihime was frightened to hear Ulquiorra mutter, "Damn," underneath his breath. Neliel's naked form collapsed onto the floor, where she began to convulse. Her mouth opened and closed as if she was struggling to breath. Before Orihime could even reach her in time to do something, she had become limp and unconscious.

Grimmjow scowled, crouching down and gripping Neliel's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, turning her limp head from side to side. "She's not dead," he announced bluntly.

"It appears she will need time to adjust to this form," Ulquiorra said with a frown. "Woman, dress her. We have wasted too much time here already."

Orihime awkwardly dried Nel off and dressed her in a simple pair of white pants and a grey turtleneck sweater. It appeared to be the least revealing outfit in Nel's wardrobe, and given her previous nudity, she thought the woman deserved some modesty. Ulquiorra addressed her as she was slipping a pair of sneakers onto Nel's feet.

"Choose something for yourself as well. You are wearing rags."

Orihime realized he was right - her robe, while comfortable, was tattered and completely out of place next to the three Espada's designer clothes. She eyed the two men uncomfortably.

"Okay, but then turn around please."

Grimmjow chuckled. "Nothing we aint seen literally five minutes ago, princess." He eyed the unconscious Nel pointedly. Orihime blushed.

"Just turn around!" she cried helplessly.

Ulquiorra gave Grimmjow a look, and while the blue haired man rolled his eyes the pair of them turned away from her.

It was still the fastest Orihime had ever changed in her life. Luckily, Nel was around the same size as her, so she managed to fit herself into a pair of dark jeans and simple boots, as well as a flowing green halter top. Nel's wardrobe wasn't exactly her style, but it was better than what she'd had before. As she shivered in the cold of the lab, she wrapped herself in a long brown coat.

"I'm done."

The two Espada turned around, and moments later the three suitcases were all capsulated and in Ulquiorra and Grimmjow's pockets. Grimmjow seemed to have recovered well enough to take the initiative and hoist Nel into his arms.

Orihime realized that there were now three very conspicuously empty tanks and she spoke before her brain could catch up with her mouth. "Um, won't they notice..."

She trailed off abruptly and her eyes widened in horror. Why would she _say_ that?! She had potentially just screwed up the only clue that could have lead to her friends figuring out who had taken her!

Ulquiorra appeared to understand the internal conflict going on within her. "I was already aware. It will not be an issue."

Orihime wasn't sure if she should be thankful or not that it hadn't been her idiocy, but rather Ulquiorra's smarts that had ruined her possibility of rescue.

A minute later they were all in front of a panel in the wall at the end of Szayel's main lab. Ulquiorra once again began typing in numbers and seconds later the loud wail of a siren cut through the silence.

"What did you do?" Orihime asked nervously. Ulquiorra faced them.

"I activated the self destruct. This lab will be nothing but rubble in three minutes."

Orihime didn't have time to cry out before Ulquiorra had pulled her against him and the world disappeared around her. They jerked to a halt a second later, and Orihime realized they were now standing a long way away from the lab on the bright desert sand. Grimmjow appeared next to them, Nel still in his arms.

Ulquiorra didn't waste any time. With a snap of his fingers a garganta tore open. Orihime cried out as she was pushed inside.

"But the Shinigami!" she protested, realizing that the two men she had incapacitated would be unable to escape the explosion.

"They will live," Ulquiorra deadpanned.

Orihime watched the view of Hueco Mundo slowly disappear and become darkness.


	8. Like Shooting Stars

A/N: Wow! 100 reviews, thank you all so much! Do you know that that puts me on the fifth page of all Ulquihime fics? I cannot describe how much this pleases me!

**Like Shooting Stars:**

* * *

There was chaos in Hueco Mundo.

Shinigami ran to and fro over the rubble of what had once been Szayel Aporro's lab, salvaging what they could and taking extensive notes. Some men carried devices that looked almost like metal detectors, running them over the ground while the sophisticated screen attached to the pole flashed with whatever data was being collected.

The rescue team from Urahara's shop stood or sat awkwardly to one side, observing the carnage with mixed interest and concern and making no effort to hide the fact that they were listening in on Uryuu's shouting match with Kurotsuchi Mayuri.

"Circumstantial evidence is not good enough!"

"Circumstantial? Are you a fool, boy? I have the testimonies of my men!"

The pair stood on a small area of ground that had been cleared, their raised voices heard even over the sounds of orders being given, grunts of exertion and the crashing and crumbling of large rocks. The situation might have been comical if the rage emanating off them weren't so palpable.

"Men who could be lying," Uryuu argued.

"You think any man would lie about being defeated in combat by a little human child? Bah!"

"You've sacrificed your mens' lives to get to Inoue-san before, I doubt you're above sacrificing their pride and ordering them to tell us this nonsense!"

Kurotsuchi bared his teeth in an open mouthed snarl. "Are you saying that I orchestrated this, destroyed the most valuable scientific find in over a century, to get to some whore and her hairclips?"

Uryuu had to admit that he had reluctantly developed a twisted sort of camaraderie with the Captain of squad twelve, ever since the man had saved he and Renji from Szayel Aporro. It was an involuntary human reaction to grow closer to someone after fighting a battle together. And even if he would never be _friends _with the man, whom he still assumed to be a complete psychopath, he could at least see past his glasses of dislike and mistrust long enough to see that the guy was _pissed._ Whatever had happened there, Kurotsuchi had had no part in it.

Uryuu hesitated. "I'm saying I refuse to condemn Inoue-san on the word of your men."

Kurotsuchi scoffed. "Stubborn fool. Urahara! Do something about this idiot!"

The former captain of squad twelve had been watching the confrontation from a seat on a rock a few feet away. He eyed Kurotsuchi from under the brim of his hat, a frown set deep into his features.

"What else has she done?" he asked quietly.

Uryuu turned in shock. "Urahara-san! You can't possibly be-"

"I am asking you," Urahara said a bit louder, staring directly at Kurotsuchi and effectively cutting Uryuu off, "If you've found any trace that she used her abilities."

The painted scientist waved a white hand, an unpleasant scowl still on his face. "Feel free to look around. My men are searching for her reiatsu as we speak."

A few minutes later, Kurotsuchi's men had been freed up and Orihime's rescue team were walking around with what they figured were reiatsu detectors. The captain himself took to wondering around with Nemu, muttering furiously to himself.

Uryuu sidled up to Urahara, Rukia, Renji, Sado and Tatsuki trailing after him. "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed.

The candy salesman continued his slow trek over the uneven ground, Yoruichi just a step to his left. "I'm acting like a rational man not in denial," he responded coldly. "Based on the evidence, Inoue-san is quite clearly responsible for this." He gestured to the mountain of rubble they stood on. "Refuting it without anything to back us up will only hurt her cause."

Rukia bit her lip. "They'll brand her a traitor for this."

Urahara nodded. "Most likely. But if our actions here today cause Soul Society to forbid us from assisting in the search for her, what will that have accomplished?"

Tatsuki was doing her best to maintain a facade of calm, despite how inwardly freaked out she was to be standing in another _dimension. _A dimension that her best friend had been kidnapped to, and her classmates whom she thought she _knew _seemed completely comfortable standing around in as if it weren't the most mind blowing experience of her life.

And Ishida, whom she had _never _seen raise his voice, had just gotten into a fight with the weirdest looking man she had ever seen! A man who he seemed to know and have a history with? And they were saying that Orihime, the kindest, most innocent and pure human being she had ever had the honour of knowing was responsible for the destruction around her.

And she was so confused and afraid and out of her depth, she wasn't even sure she had the confidence left to kick their asses for even _considering_ something like that, because really, what the hell did she know?

"We'd still look for her anyway!" She whispered angrily, because as frightened and unsure as she was, that was one thing she could be certain of - she would always look out for Orihime. "You did before, didn't you?"

"Yes," Urahara said patiently, "And we would have been far more effective had we had Soul Society's cooperation."

"We go along with this for now," Yoruichi murmured, "Kurotsuchi will be out for blood, but so long as we-"

She was cut off by a scream of rage. All eyes turned to see Kurotsuchi, storming towards them from across the rubble. Uryuu didn't have time to object before the reiatsu scanner was ripped from his hands and the captain was rushing back the way he had come. Sending each other worried looks, the group followed him.

He came to a halt, and as he lowered the device to the ground it began to give off a high pitched beeping. Kurotsuchi's eyes twitched in fury.

And Uryuu's eyes caught sight of the bloodied, hilt-less blade lying on the floor.

"Oh no," he muttered, feeling his blood run cold.

"What's wrong?" Sado asked. Renji seemed to realize it just then, as he gasped and turned pale. The others sent the pair of them puzzled looks.

Kurotsuchi answered for them, his fingers crushing through the handle of the reiatsu scanner with a loud crunch of metal and the static of electrical wiring. Eye's ablaze with rage, and for the first time, something hinting at worry, the scientist said, "She has begun resurrecting the Espada."

* * *

They stepped out into mid air.

There was a brief moment in which a scream caught in Orihime's throat, her heart sinking into her stomach as that horrible 'missed-a-step' feeling hit her. Only it was a thousand times worse, because she could see city lights below her and instead of a flight of stairs (which was terrifying enough) it was a 200ft drop to certain death. In that moment she felt like one of those cartoon characters that always ran off of cliffs - staring at the audience in comical horror for the few seconds before gravity claimed them.

Before her cry could pierce the night air, an arm wrapped securely around her waist. Moments later her flailing limbs were wrapped solidly around Ulquiorra lithe form. His fingers dug into her ribs, and she could feel Murcielago's hilt poking into her inner thigh. Another hand cupped her buttocks, keeping her steady against him. Her face pressed firmly into his neck, eyes squeezing shut. His trenchcoat was a lot more bulky than his previously formfitting uniform, softening his body somewhat.

Somehow, her instincts must have recognized him as a lesser threat, because despite the danger she knew him to be, her limbs were showing no sign of letting go. It was in that moment that Inoue Orihime realized two important things; she was terrified of heights, and Ulquiorra smelled like new clothes and the sterile chemicals from Szayel Aporro's lab. The relevance of that last thought only kicked in when she realized that her sensitive nose knew that this wasn't Ulquiorra's scent at _all_.

Which meant she knew what Ulquiorra smelled like normally, and wasn't that just a bit weird.

She could hear the bustle of the city in the distance - cars hooting, tires screeching, even what sounded like the roar of an airplane nearby.

"Release me now." His cold voice caused her to flinch, afraid that he was about to push her away.

Orihime wanted to shake her head and cling to him even harder - did he not understand how terrifying it was to be 200ft in the air with nothing but a man to keep you from plummeting to the ground and exploding like a watermelon on the sidewalk?

But...Ulquiorra wouldn't have gone through all this trouble just to let her fall - and even if he had, he had forgotten to confiscate her Shun Shun Rika again - which she had wisely placed in her jean pocket so as to keep them out of his sight - so she could just use her powers to get her down safely. She was acting like an idiot. She reluctantly released him.

Her feet touched solid ground.

Orihime's eyes flew open and looked around, only her fingers clinging to the lapels of his coat.

"Wha-?" They were standing in an alley between two tall buildings. Trash cans occupied the entrance of the alley, where people walked to and fro. Car's blurred up and down the street. Directly across from them she saw a busy sushi restaurant filled with families and couples. Grimmjow was eyeing a foul smelling puddle in distaste, and adjusted Nel over his shoulder so her long hair wouldn't trail over the ground. "Oh. You're a pretty smooth ride, Ulquiorra-san."

She patted his chest and stepped back, tucking her hair behind her ears and looking at the ground in embarrassment at her behaviour. Thus, she missed the stony look that Ulquiorra sent Grimmjow when it looked like the man was about to make a lewd comment.

Orihime couldn't shake the freaky, surreal feeling that plagued her from standing in a smelly ally in the human world with three disguised Arrancar on a perfectly pleasant night. They looked like a group of college kids ready for a night on the town for god's sake! Except maybe for Ulquiorra, who pretty much _screamed_ 'designated driver' with those fancy shoes of his. "Where are we?"

"A few blocks away from the Karakura town airport."

Orihime's eyes widened. She was _home?_ With all her friends? Karakura wasn't really a big place, she could practically walk to her apartment!

She didn't really think it through. She didn't consider that she couldn't possible outrun him. She just turned on her heal and bolted for the street. People gave the pretty girl running at a flat sprint some odd looks, but ultimately decided that she must surely be chasing after the love of her life, or had perhaps forgot her purse at that nice Mexican place down the road. Apparently she'd managed the element of surprise, because she made it to the end of the street without being caught.

But when she turned the corner, she ran face first into a solid chest, only the strong grip of long fingers on her arms preventing her from falling to her butt on the pavement.

"Surely you didn't think you could escape me?" Ulquiorra asked in a deceptively amicable tone while his eyes spoke of painful retribution.

To the people who walked past them however, they merely looked like a couple embracing. Only Orihime was close enough to see the murder in his gaze.

She spluttered, placed her hands on his chest in an attempt to distance herself as he leaned into her. "N-no, I-um, just really needed t-to...um, go to the bathroom!"

Ulquiorra paused and titled his head. "Oh?" he said in the manner of someone playing along only for the purpose of making their eventual revenge that much more terrifying.

Orihime nodded frantically. "Y-yup! I gotta pee real bad and I've had a tiny bladder since I was a kid, and the ally would have probably been the perfect place, at least it was for like a hundred other people, but I'm a lady and you guys are men so I thought I'd do the polite thing and go do my business...somewhere...else...Ulquiorra-san?" she trailed off with worry.

He had the strangest look on his face. His lips were pinched in that same stern expression of disapproval as always, but his eyes were widened ever so slightly as if she really had dropped her knickers.

It was when Grimmjow casually strolled around the corner behind her, Nel still slung over his shoulders as he commented, "You kill her yet?" that Ulquiorra straightened up and released her arms, his impassive expression back in place.

"You are ridiculous," he muttered, returning his hands to his pockets and stepping away.

Orihime placed a curled hand over her racing heart, almost unable to believe she had survived the stupidest decision of her life. It was then that she noticed the family in the Mexican restaurant beside her eyeing the four of them through the glass window with interest. She knew the oldest daughter who worked in the fabric store she and Ishida-kun sometimes went to. In an effort to prevent Ulquiorra from murdering anyone who recognized her, she ignored the girl's attempt to make eye contact and turned her back on them.

"I thought we were going far away from here?" she asked quietly, feeling her heart sink. Someone she knew, a part of her simple, happy life lay just behind that window...and she couldn't reach her.

"We are." Ulquiorra seemed to anticipate her follow up questions because he said further, "Had I opened a garganta to our destination, we could be easily tracked. So we will travel by other methods."

After that, the four of them began their casual stroll to the airport, with no words spoken about punishment for her little escape attempt. Ulquiorra, to her surprise, spent several minutes on the phone - which he had just casually whipped out of his pocket as if he had always had one - in a tone too low for her to hear given that he walked ahead of them. From behind, he really did look just like a businessman as he strolled down the street. There was at least something familiar as his dark coat trailed behind him.

More than once, someone sent them, or more specifically, _Grimmjow,_ a puzzled look. Orihime did her best to smile and nod reassuringly to these people, realizing that any reasonable person would become worried if they spotted a dangerous looking man with an unconscious woman thrown over his shoulder. If anyone actually stopped and seemed about to ask questions, she would place a calming hand on Grimmjow's shoulder and say quietly, "No, she's fine, my sister just had a bit too much to drink tonight," and watch with a relieved sigh as the man or woman chuckled in understanding and carried on. The last thing she needed was for Grimmjow to get annoyed and start breaking necks, even if that would be just the perfect trail of breadcrumbs to lead her friends to her.

No, better to leave quietly and inconspicuously than ahead of a line of bodies.

When the four of them reached the entrance to the airport, Orihime was shocked when two men in suits greeted them respectfully, and in perfect English. Orihime had always planned on traveling the world, and had for that reason done her best to learn the language in school. She had never been more grateful for the hours of stumbling vowels and embarrassing speeches in front of the mirror.

"Everything is in place, Mr. Schiffer," the one on the right said, looking for all the world like a real secret agent, with classy shades and grim expression. "Preparations are being made in San Francisco as we speak."

"Good. Make sure Eric understands the living arrangements." Orihime's heart skipped a beat as Ulquiorra answered in flawless English himself, the accent that plagued her when she spoke nowhere to be found.

"Of course sir. Are you ready to depart?"

"Yes."

"You speak English?" Orihime whispered as the men escorted them through the airport parking lot and into the main building. The place was bustling with people greeting and parting with friends and family, waiting in line for tickets or being searched by airport security.

Ulquiorra smoothly switched to Japanese as he answered.

"I speak several languages."

Orihime wasn't sure why that surprised her. "Oh. Who are these men?"

Ulquiorra looked down at her as they walked. "Did you truly think the extent of Aizen-sama's influence stopped with Las Noches?"

Her mind began to race. "You mean he has humans - wait, do they _know_ who they work for?!"

"They know that Aizen-sama is a powerful man and that they are well paid in his employ."

Orihime shook her head in disbelief and they continued on.

"Why are they wearing sunglasses at night?"

He ignored her.

The two men in suits led them right past all the bustle to a door that said 'private entrance, staff only'. There was a moment in which Orihime could tell that the security guard near the door was eyeing them carefully, and she was certain they would be stopped. But the guard simply nodded respectfully at Ulquiorra, ignored that Grimmjow was carrying an unconscious woman, and the six of them entered without a hitch.

Orihime felt a moment of patriotic indignation that Aizen had managed to sully her home town so effectively.

The two men led them through several corridors and finally out the back of the building, where there was a smaller, separate landing strip to the main ones. The security guards once more did nothing to stop them, to Orihime's mixed disappointment and relief, and not long after they were boarding what was apparently Ulquiorra's private jet.

When had her life become a James Bond movie?

The jet had a luxurious interior, and Orihime commented on this in her own tactful way.

"Woah. This is nicer than my apartment."

No one responded to her comment and the two men lead them to a small room with four plush leather seats, two on each side of the jet, facing each other. Between each seat was a table extending from the walls, covered with trays of the most delicious looking food Orihime had ever seen, bottles of expensive looking wine and delicate crystal glasses safely encased in a wooden display box.

Behind the seats, Orihime could see a door that she was informed lead to a private bathroom equipped with shower that she would only be allowed to use once they were safely in the air. She nodded dumbly. This was like a weird dream.

Ulquiorra dismissed them not long after and ordered that they were not to be disturbed. The men left and Orihime realized they were the ones who would be piloting the jet.

Grimmjow wasted no time. He dumped Nel into one of the seats, took the one across from her, stretched out with his arms behind his head and his legs on the table and closed his eyes. Orihime wasn't sure if he was sleeping or not.

Orihime arranged Nel more comfortably in her chair, and shot Grimmjow a worried glance.

"Is he okay?"

Ulquiorra placed the back of two fingers to Grimmjow's temple, and the fact that the blue haired man made no attempt to rip off Ulquiorra's hand told her that he was dead to the world.

"He's fine. He simply needs rest."

Ulquiorra settled a bit more gracefully. He lowered himself into his seat, crossed his legs and gestured Orihime to the seat across from him. Orihime hesitantly sat down, and then began her attempt to look anywhere but at the food on the table.

Ulquiorra seemed to catch her fervent glances at the various pastries, sushi and cold meats. "Eat," he told her.

Orihime didn't need telling twice. Not even the turbulence of lift-off could slow her down as she feasted.

It was several minutes later, once she had become awed with the sight of the ocean stretching out all around them, the clouds so close they brushed by her window, that Orihime realized something that made her face fall and her heart sink.

"This is the first time I've been on an airplane..." she whispered.

Ulquiorra, who had been quietly sipping red wine, lowered his glass and regarded her with interest. "I fail to see the significance."

Orihime lowered her eyes, too depressed to look outside any longer, no matter how beautiful the view was.

"What is it?" Ulquiorra questioned, placing his glass on the table.

Orihime flashed him a watery, weak smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's nothing. I'm just being silly." She returned to gazing out the window, though her appreciation of the view was now gone.

Ulquiorra tilted his head back, steepled his fingers and watched her carefully from under his lids. Finally, after a silence so long she thought he wouldn't speak, he clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Woman, if these are the same tactics of deception you use to hide your emotions from your friends then they are either exceptionally unintelligent or they care very little for you."

Orihime clenched her fists. "You don't get to talk about them," she whispered into the window, not meeting his gaze. "You don't get to judge them when you don't even know them. When all _you_ know is how to be cruel."

Ulquiorra's eyes hardened. "If you are going to disparage my character at least remain consistent. Earlier you accused me of being 'too nice'. Now I am cruel."

"You are cruel!" Orihime cried, finally forcing herself to face him, tears springing to her eyes. "You've taken me from my life and everyone I love and you won't even tell me _why_! Did you know it's always been one of my dreams to fly on an airplane?"

Ulquiorra didn't answer the obviously rhetorical question, waiting in silence as Orihime sniffled. "A-and now, instead of flying with my friends to go on some fun vacation where we'd take pictures and get a tan and buy souvenirs and try cool new foods...I'm just a prisoner..."

Would this be the rest of her life, however long it would be? Being dragged around on adventures that should have been amazing fun but which she couldn't actually enjoy? She blew her nose loudly and miserably into a napkin.

Ulquiorra closed his eyes. "Very well," he said curtly, "You may do all of those things, providing you cease your annoying emotional display this instant."

Orihime lowered the napkin and blinked. "I'm sorry?"

His eyes snapped open, and he barked his pet name for her. "Woman," he began, obviously preparing to give a scathing lecture of some sort. But he trailed off, staring into confused, glistening eyes while one or two tears dripped slowly off her lashes, spilling all too quickly over her cheeks. Finally he broke contact, staring out the window with a small sigh. "If it will make you happy, you may pursue whatever activities you desire. I have no objection."

Orihime shook her head sadly. "Right. You once told me you weren't here to comfort me, Ulquiorra-san. So since when do you care if I'm happy or not?"

"Since I realized how unpleasant it is to witness your sniveling," he muttered.

She hastily wiped her eyes. She had been told more than once how ugly she was when she cried. "Sorry..."

"Don't apologize to me."

She paused. That seemed to be a genuine order, not a casual dismissal. "Why?"

"Because your apologies are habitual and have no real meaning. If you are going to open your mouth, say something that holds substance."

Orihime's mouth popped open. "They do have meaning!"

Ulquiorra frowned at her. "Oh? You mean to tell me you are genuinely apologetic towards me that you were moved to an emotional reaction due to a situation I have placed you in against your will?"

Orihime looked away. "Well...no...it's just...when you annoy someone, you say sorry..."

"Unacceptable. If I have to hear you apologize every time you displease me I will gag you."

Orihime was unable to hold back a tiny, shocked giggle. "Do I really get on your nerves that often?"

His silent stare said it all.

Orihime crossed her arms with a huff, although she was still unable to prevent her spirits from lifting. Ulquiorra was actually claiming that he would give her some freedom, just because he didn't want to see her cry. If it hadn't been for the way he'd phrased it, she might have even though that was sweet of him, in a twisted way. "Well then maybe you should have kidnapped someone else who's _less_ annoying, Ulquiorra-san."

"Sadly, there is no such person."

Orihime did a double-take, "Eh? You mean _I'm_ the least annoying person you know?"

"Don't look so flattered. Most of my acquaintances are..." His eyes drifted pointedly to Grimmjow. "Disobedient as you are, you are human and require far less supervision."

"What, you don't know any obedient humans?" Orihime asked.

Ulquiorra gave his own, muted version of a scowl. "I'm beginning to believe such a thing does not exist."

Orihime chuckled. "That's not totally true. While it's true that some people obey out of fear for the consequences, a lot of the time true obedience in humans comes from loyalty and wanting to please those you love. Some people have it, some people don't."

Ulquiorra stared at her for a long moment. "Obedience among the Hollow stems solely from fear."

Orihime cocked her head. "Were you afraid of Aizen?"

"No."

She smiled brightly. "Then you're more human than Hollow, Ulquiorra-san."

Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes at her but didn't respond. Orihime took a wistful bite from a mini lemon tart and allowed herself to return to the gorgeous view outside. It could be worse. She shouldn't waste her first experience on a plane crying.

It was after almost half an hour of silence other than the sound of Orihime's chewing and Ulquiorra slowly swirling the wine in his glass that the pale Espada finally spoke up again.

"That is why the boy refused to drop his sword?"

It took Orihime some time to figure out what he was talking about before she nodded."Yes. Kurosaki-kun doesn't fight for us because he's afraid of what we'll do if he doesn't, and he doesn't hold onto his sword because he's afraid of losing. He fights for us because he loves us."

"And somehow this was a more powerful motivator?"

Orihime shrugged. "You saw so yourself."

Ulquiorra grimaced. "Absurd."

"You only think that because you've never felt any real connection with another's heart," she pointed out, noting the way his eyes narrowed at the mention of the thing that had vexed him so completely since her arrival in Las Noches. "And because you'd never felt it and you lived in a terrible place like Hueco Mundo, you didn't think it could exist. But you've seen the results first hand now. He won."

"I killed him. Twice. That he eventually defeated me was a mere fluke."

Orihime nodded. "I know. And the fluke happened because Kurosaki-kun was so desperate to protect me." She winced at the memory. "I'll be honest Ulquiorra-san...I almost regret what happened then. I wish he hadn't lost himself...and I wish he hadn't ...done what he did to you...but he did. And there's no way it's because Kurosaki-kun is scared of me."

"Was he afraid of me?"

"He must have been."

"But because of his love for you, he fought anyway."

"Not just for me, for everyone he cares about."

Silence reigned for a long while.

"You said you weren't afraid of me."

"I'm not."

"How can that be?"

Orihime sighed. "I don't know, Ulquiorra-san. You just don't scare me."

"I could end your life with a flick of my wrist, woman."

"So could lots of people."

"So it comes down to your trust that I won't?"

"Maybe...I'm not sure." she shrugged. "Fear isn't a rational thing. I'm scared of spiders and the bogeyman and of losing my friends and being all alone. None of those things could actually kill me, unless it's a really poisonous spider or something, but they still keep me up at night just thinking about them."

"That makes no sense."

She felt a stab of pity at the frustrated look in his eyes.

"I know. But that doesn't stop me from being scared. Aren't there things you're afraid of that can't actually kill you?"

He seemed to hesitate, and Orihime raised a hand before he could reply. "You don't have to tell me. Just understand that there are scarier things than getting beat up or killed."

"Fine."

"And for what it's worth, I don't think you'll hurt me. You could have plenty of times, but you haven't."

"Am I supposed to be touched by your sentiments?" He waved a dismissive hand. "Your vote of confidence means nothing to me. Your situation remains the same - I will not harm you so long as you continue to cooperate."

Orihime's face fell. Every time it seemed she might be slipping past his defenses, he slammed them shut in her face and left her with a broken nose.

They were silent for a long time, Orihime watching the oceans fly by underneath. At some point, she decided to escape the heavy atmosphere and had a scalding hot shower. Orihime preferred intense heat, especially when she was feeling down. She enjoyed the expensive cleaning products and fancy conditioners, unable to shake the childish excitement that she was showering in a _plane_. She dried herself with one of the fluffy white towels on the sink and got redressed in her same clothes, feeling much better about herself now that she was clean, fed and exceptionally tired.

She barely had the energy to mutter a sleepy suggestion to Ulquiorra as she moved past him that the shower was nice and he smelled like a hospital, so he should try it, before she curled up in her seat and fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

Grimmjow woke to a rather disturbing sight. Ulquiorra stood beside the human's chair, his hair wet as if he had just showered, and he was tracing a long, spidery finger over the sleeping girls cheek. His coat had been shed and was draped over her.

She couldn't have looked more helpless and - as much as he hated the word there really was no other description - '_cute',_ had she tried. She was snoring softly, one cheek smushed up against the side of her chair, a small trail of drool coming from her mouth. And the creepy bastard was looking down at her like she was the last puddle of water in the desert.

"I'm surprised you voluntarily slept in my presence." Ulquiorra said quietly. For a moment, Grimmjow thought he was addressing the human and furrowed his brow, certain that Ulquiorra had finally lost it, until he found himself on the receiving end of two piercing green eyes.

Grimmjow tensed, as he always did when that man looked directly at him, but forced himself to relax. No need to give anything away. Ulquiorra's hand dropped from Orihime's face and he stepped closer to Grimmjow, leaning back on the table behind him. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes and responded carefully. "You don't seem like the type to attack a sleeping opponent."

Ulquiorra's face showed no reaction. "You clearly know nothing about me then."

Grimmjow scoffed. He thought the guy was probably lying, but what did he know? Maybe Ulquiorra was more twisted than he got credit for. "I know you haven't gone through all this shit to kill me while I'm taking a nap."

Ulquiorra clearly wasn't about to confirm or deny that, so Grimmjow settled for moving on and stretched his neck to either side. "So why San Francisco?"

"It is Aizen-sama's human base of communications."

"Who do we need to contact?"

Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes. "I take it then that you will be assisting me?"

"I'm a pragmatist."

Ulquiorra seemed doubtful. "We will get in touch with those in Soul Society who are still loyal to Aizen-sama."

Grimmjow frowned. "Why?"

"That's all you need to know for now. I suggest you go back to sleep. We still have four more hours until we arrive."

Grimmjow scowled, watching as Ulquiorra dropped back into his seat.

"Why did you bother to bring me?" he muttered, only half expecting the pale bastard to answer.

"You would have bled out, or been executed had I not."

"So? It's not like we're friends. Why do you care?"

Ulquiorra didn't answer, and a while later Grimmjow allowed himself to fall asleep again.

* * *

Uryuu had never been one for foul language, but there really was only one way to phrase the current state of events; a total _shitstorm_.

After discovering Szayel Aporro's disappearance, along with the unmistakable residue of Inoue-san's reiatsu, everything had gone to hell. After an exchange of whispers with Urahara, Yoruichi had disappeared and taken a very confused and frightened looking Tatsuki with her. Toushirou had spent several long, disquieting minutes in private conversation with Kurotsuchi, his face even more serious than usual. The Vizard had taken a long look around, sensed that their presence was only making things more stressful and returned to the human world as well. Toushirou had then commanded Rukia and Renji to return to Soul Society with him.

And then things had gotten even worse - Rangiku was discovered to be missing, and no one could remember when they'd last seen her. Toushirou appeared to be nearing a panic attack and had been on the verge of abandoning everything and searching for her before Kurotsuchi reminded him of his duties. Uryuu had done his best to convince Toushirou to take the humans with to Soul Society, to limited effect.

He, Sado and Urahara now stood inside the Captains' Assembly Hall, shoved awkwardly to the side while the remaining members of the Gotei Thirteen, for the first time, abandoned decorum and embraced chaos.

"You want me to destroy my remaining samples! You're insane, boy!" Kurotsuchi exclaimed.

"You short-sighted fool! If she's bringing back the Espada we have to get rid of the bodies!" Toushirou seethed.

"I'm short-sighted?_ I'm_ not the one who let my lieutenant disappear!"

Kyoraku snorted. "Shame for her."

"We need to stay on topic here," Ukitake urged, "I agree with Toushirou-kun, we need to get rid of any Arrancar remains we still have."

"Are we honestly saying we believe that girl could infiltrate Soul Society, find her way into arguably the most well-guarded death trap of a lab in all of Seireitei and revive our enemies right under our noses?" Byakuya asked in a neutral, yet cutting tone.

"She's gotten in before," Komamura pointed out.

"Are _you_ saying you agree with Kurotsuchi-taichou, Byakuya-taichou?" Unohana asked mildly.

"Didn't think a guy like you had much interest in the sciences." Kenpachi grinned.

"I am simply against the idea of making rash decisions, especially because of a mere human child."

"That mere human child could have already resurrected several of our enemies!" Komamura objected.

"Enemies we have already defeated once before. I have met the girl. Even if she is a traitor, she is not much of a threat."

Unohana smiled sadly. "Do you truly believe that, Kuchiki-taichou? Or is it for the benefit of Rukia-san than you are making such claims?"

Byakuya narrowed his grey eyes. "You have seen her yourself, Unohana-taichou. You cannot tell me you honestly believe Inoue Orihime is so dangerous that we should destroy valuable property."

Kurotsuchi threw his hands up. "Finally, a man who can see sense!"

"Tche. You mean valuable _corpses_. It's nice that you and your sister are bonding, but quit talkin' out yer ass, Byakuya." Kenpachi and the sixth squad captain shared a look of mutual annoyance.

"I fail to see how my desire to think before we act keeps circling back to my sister. I'd thank you all to respect me enough to leave her out of this."

"Fine, fine, Byakuya-kun." Kyoraku rubbed the back of his neck, looking completely put out. "But I still agree with Hitsugaya-kun. If we want to be sure, we need to get rid of those bodies."

"Not until I'm done studying them! How about you all do your jobs and apprehend the little brat and let me worry about _my_ work."

"Enough!"

Immediately, the scowls, glares and bared teeth disappeared as all Captains stepped back into position and bowed respectfully to the Captain Commander.

"Our deepest apologies, Yama-ji," Kyoraku said sincerely. His sentiments were echoed around the room.

The ancient Shinigami grunted. "I have heard what you all have said, but there is one issue I would like to question Hitsugaya-taichou about in particular."

The youngest captain stepped forward. Yamamoto eyed him seriously. "I understand that your lieutenant took Ichimaru's death particularly hard. Is it possible that she has allied herself with the human in the hopes of bringing him back."

Toushirou grimaced. "No. If Inoue is a traitor, Matsumoto would not ally herself with her for any other purpose than to save the girl from making some very bad life choices."

"'If?' You still have doubts about the girls allegiance?"

"I do. Her actions may be clear, but her motives remain a mystery. We know she defected to protect her friends before, she may very well be doing the same now."

"Are you suggesting you believe the girl is being forced?"

Toushirou nodded. "I truly do. But whatever her reasons are, her actions pose a serious threat and I believe we need to do everything in our power to circumvent that threat."

"And what of your lieutenant?"

Toushirou raised his chin a notch. "She will return."

Yamamoto nodded gravely. "Very well."

Toushirou bowed and returned to his place. The ancient Shinigami focused his attention on the three outsiders in their midst's.

"And what do you have to say for yourselves?"

Uryuu shared a look with Urahara before pushing his glasses up his nose and clearing his throat. "Our terms remain the same. You may do whatever you feel is best to protect your interests, but Inoue-san's fate is in our hands."

Yamamoto curled his lip. "Stubborn child."

The Captain Commander took a moment to think before slamming his staff down on the wooden floor. "Very well. Here are my orders. The search for Inoue Orihime is now our first priority. She is to be captured alive and well. The bodies of our fallen enemies are to be collected post-haste. Kurotsuchi-taichou," he addressed the painted man, "You will produce a list of the dead we possess as well as those that are unaccounted for so we may have an idea of the worst case scenario should the girl have made any substantial progress. You will then have one week to conduct your research, during which time the fallen are to be kept under high security. After that they are to be destroyed."

Kurotsuchi didn't look pleased, but in a rare display of sanity he bowed his head. "A reasonable compromise, soutaichou. My thanks."

"And the revived Espada?" Ukitake inquired.

Yamamoto scowled.

"They are to be killed on sight."


	9. Concrete Jungle

A/N: Hey guys! Long time no see. Sorry for the delay. It was my birthday last week (I'm finally 18, huzzah!) which might have more relevance in some countries than others, but essentially I'm all growed up down here. So since I've been feeling festive, I decided to get cracking and update.

**Concrete Jungle:**

* * *

Matsumoto Rangiku squirmed against the hold of her captor. She wasn't sure how it had happened - she was a trained warrior after all, people shouldn't have been able to sneak up on her so easily. She could only conclude that her grief had consumed her until she was no longer aware of her surroundings.

It had been foolishness on her part - she had wandered away from the others. How could she resist? The ruined castle above them was the place where _he_ had spent the last months of his life. She wasn't sure what she was looking for as she walked the desolate hallways, slowly filling up with sand. She only knew that she was searching for _something_ that would somehow make the emptiness in her heart disappear...

She had gone too far. Strong arms had locked around her from behind, the sheer strength of her captor preventing her from doing anything to escape. A hand clamped down over her mouth and cut off her scream.

Her captor had escorted her in this manor from the castle, on the opposite side from her Captain. She tried to get her reiatsu up, to warn the others, but found it was impossible. Her captor was stifling her completely. The only sound he would make was the occasional grunt as she struggled against him. Rangiku was a big girl. Most men would certainly be unable to hold her down for so long.

It was this that made her realize she was in trouble. Her captor had suppressed his reiatsu totally and completely, and yet, he effortlessly restrained her. They sped across the dunes of Hueco Mundo.

It was only after they had traveled far enough away that her Captain's presence faded from the edge of her mind completely that she was released. Rangiku didn't hesitate. Haineko was drawn and swinging down on her captors head before a second was up.

The palm of his hand stopped her blade. The man before her was covered in dark cloth, his face hidden beneath a low cowl. She could see only the bottom of his chin, revealing light stubble, as if the man hadn't shaved for a few days.

A tired voice spoke. "Shinigami-san, I'd prefer it if you didn't do that...I'm not really in the right shape to fight you yet..."

Rangiku was taken aback, narrowing her eyes and pressing her sword into the flesh of his hand, willing it to draw blood. What kind of person admitted to that sort of thing? "Who are you?"

The man slowly gripped her sword and lowered it to the side before raising his other hand and scratching his chin in a casual manner. It made a noise as his nails caught on his stubble, but Rangiku's attention was caught by the large burn on the back of his hand. "To be honest," he said, "I'd prefer not to say just yet."

She scowled. The man kidnapped her and now he wanted to be vague? "Then what do you want?"

He sighed. "I don't really want anything...There's actually someone who I know wants to see you. He's been very stubborn about not doing so...seems to think you're better off without him, but..." his lips turned down into a frown. "I don't really agree with his logic. If the person you love is still alive, you should spend as much time with that person as possible. No matter what..."

Rangiku was struck speechless as the man fell into silence. He couldn't possibly be saying what she thought he was saying. And yet, who else could it be? She knew she was being reckless, trusting some stranger who had so easily overpowered her. But something about him seemed sincere. When he spoke of loved ones, he seemed almost nostalgic.

Or perhaps it was her own desperation giving her reasons to trust this strange man. Whatever it was, she sheathed her sword and seized the front of his robe. "Please," she cried, "Take me to him!"

* * *

Orihime woke up when Ulquiorra shook her shoulder. She blinked up at him, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and uncurling her stiff limbs. He stood next to her, shrugging on his long grey coat, looking out the window. She followed his gaze and gasped as she saw the skyline of San Francisco. She struggled to comprehend how they had left home in the middle of the night, and yet the sun seemed to just be setting behind a massive bridge spanning a channel of ocean. Orihime cooed in wonder, scrabbled to kneel up on her seat and pressed her face against the window, unbothered by the squashing of her nose, and held her breath to prevent fogging it up.

The city was huge, so much bigger than Karakura. With the sun just disappearing over the horizon and the sky beginning to darken into a deep purple, the city had already been lit up. The sparkling lights illuminated the Golden Gate Bridge, and reflected in Orihime's eyes as she gazed out in wonder. It was a sight more beautiful than anything she had ever seen before. Tears sprung into her eyes at the sheer glory of it.

"It's amazing, Ulquiorra-san!" she cried, leaning back and giving him a wide grin. She received only a noncommittal grunt in response as Ulquiorra had already turned away and was busy leaning over the still unconscious Nel. Orihime could only see his back, but she knew Ulquiorra was inspecting the woman by the way his long fingers gently pried open her eyelids. Orihime then tilted her head and frowned, noticing something for the first time.

"Where's Grimmjow-san?"

As if to answer her, Orihime heard the sound of a toilette flushing and a moment later Grimmjow slouched into the room, hair wet and a towel around his shoulders.

"Oh, there you are!" Orihime said brightly, "Good mor- err, good evening!"

Grimmjow eyed her balefully, as if wondering what on earth she had to be so chipper about. Orihime turned back to the view, swinging her legs energetically behind her as she did so. "Isn't it cool?"

Grimmjows lack of a response didn't put a damper on her good mood. Orihime wasn't sure why, but she had woken up quite happy, all things considered. Even though she had technically been kidnapped, something about the whole ordeal, especially now, just felt like an _adventure _to her. The kind she had always wanted to go on.

After all, she reasoned, it wasn't like she had anything spectacular waiting for her at home. It was her final year of high school and even if she managed to get back in time to pass, her chances of earning a scholarship were all but nil now that she had missed so much school. And given that her financial support was due to end once she left high school, without a scholarship her prospects for the future were dim indeed.

She would never be able to afford university. Her dream of opening a bakery would require quite a bit of start up money that would only be acquired through years of saving. So what did she have to look forward to at home? Living paycheque to paycheque every month while all of her friends moved on to a better life?

She sighed at the bitter thoughts. She had never belonged in their exciting lives. She didn't have the power or the money to ever keep up with them.

But Ulquiorra...well, he wasn't giving her a chance to keep up with him. He was _dragging _her along whether she liked it or not. And, even if it was to a great extent against her will, a tiny part of her felt that it was nice to be wanted. Her friends had tried to push her out of their affairs. Ulquiorra was insisting that she be involved.

Who said she had to be depressed and angry just because she hadn't been given a choice to be here? She was where she was and frankly, it was more exciting than anything back home. Back home she would be struggling to survive, to buy food, to pay the rent. Here, at the mercy of her captor, her life was out of her hands. And strangely, that felt like a great weight off her shoulders. She had been self-reliant for so long that it was nice to not have any responsibilities.

Her friends were alive and safe. They really didn't need her anyway. So why shouldn't she allow herself to be whisked away on this adventure? Ulquiorra had promised that he wouldn't hurt her so long as she behaved, and he had even indicated that he would allow her to have fun in this new city! Yes the situation was a bit twisted, but for so long as Ulquiorra did nothing that went against her moral code, she would have no reason to rebel against him and in theory, they would all get along just fine. They might even become friends!

She giggled at the thought of calling Ulquiorra and Grimmjow her friends. It seemed out of place, even in her idealistic mind. But still...it was a nice thought. She still wanted to go home one day, so maybe if she got on Ulquiorra's good side, he'd return her once he was done with...whatever he apparently needed her for.

She gave the man a sideways glance. That was assuming he _had_ a good side. And if he did, how would someone get on it?

Orihime winced. Was she actually considering manipulating him? That seemed like a foolhardy plan at best - she just wasn't cut out for that. If he ever sensed her intentions, she'd be in serious trouble. Not to mention, she didn't like the idea of playing with someone's emotions like that. Grimmjow had said that Ulquiorra felt _something_ for her, and while she couldn't say she hated him, she certainly didn't reciprocate. He was far too cold and scary for her taste, and he seemed to go out of his way to challenge her or put her down. She liked good, kind men, with a sort of adorable gruffness to them. The closest that Ulquiorra came to fitting the bill was that he could be incredibly abrasive. She could never care for a man like that, a man so detached and even cruel. So would she really be okay with acting like she could and using him?

But what other choice did she have? She had no other way of fighting him, after all, and as much as she could convince herself that this was all fun and games for the time being, she highly doubted that Ulquiorra's plans for her were innocent.

She just didn't know...

As they descended, Ulquiorra pulled her out of her musing to tell her to strap in. The landing strip was on a secluded field just outside the city, situated behind a large building.

When they exited the jet they were met with the sight of a black limousine. Orihime's eyes bulged at the sight, almost tripping out of the jet and face planting into the concrete. Ulquiorra's firm tug on the collar of her coat from behind her prevented this and she descended with only slightly more grace before hurrying over and smacking her face against the black tinted windows, unbeknownst to her, giving the driver inside quite a scare.

"Amazing, Ulquiorra-san! You're totally loaded, aren't you?"

Ulquiorra calmly led her away from the driver's window and to the back seats, where he opened the door and unceremoniously shoved her inside. "Consider them 'company assets'," Ulquiorra told her as he slid in next to her and crossed his legs.

Orihime nodded and craned her neck to watch Grimmjow stuffing Nel onto the seats behind them before sitting down next to Ulquiorra and shutting the door. Inside the limousine had three rows of black leather seats, each wide enough to sit four people. Ulquiorra seemed to signal wordlessly to the driver via the rear-view mirror and they slid easily over the tarmac. She leaned past his side to wave at the two men who exited the jet after them, forgetting that they would be unable to see her from the outside. Ulquiorra observed her energetic waves from the corner of his eye, but made no comment.

Orihime sat back as they pulled off onto a winding side road that eventually brought them onto what appeared to be a sort of freeway. She could smell salt in the air, and occasionally caught sight of the ocean to her left. She watched in awe as they approached the city, the massive skyscrapers and city lights seeming intimidating and magnificent to her. It wasn't long before they had surrounded them, and she was unable to see their tops without sticking her head out the window, no matter how she craned her neck. Other cars would rush by or creep past depending on the traffic, and she would sometimes amuse herself by observing the various American people she would see inside. How odd that their lives continued to fly by when right next to them beings from another dimension had trespassed onto their land.

She caught sight of many pedestrians on the sidewalks, making their way into restaurants or nightclubs, or the occasional store that would remain open for the night. After the sheer size of the city had exhausted her eyes she sank back into her seat and turned to find Ulquiorra watching her. She blushed, wondering how long he had been staring for.

"It's big," she said simply, watching the lights from outside play over his face. Grimmjow, like her, seemed occupied with staring out of the window, leaving a whole seat of space between himself and Ulquiorra. It was noteworthy though that Ulquiorra was right next to her, close enough for their arms to touch if she shifted just a little bit. It wasn't like he was on top of her or anything...but he was definitely closer than he needed to be.

It was so weird...just something as normal as being in a car with him made her head spin. She could smell him...the hospital scent had faded a lot, had been replaced with the freshness of soap and Ulquiorra's usual scent. Everyone had a unique smell. She had always thought it had to do with what different people ate. Tatsuki-chan ate a lot of meat and carbs and had a strong, musky smell, especially after training for a long time. Orihime had never found it to be unpleasant though. Ulquiorra's scent was far less obvious, trace odors of skin and that masculine twist that all men seemed to have. She could see the city outside reflected in his bright green eyes, was so close she could watch his pupils dilating and expanding as light and shadow danced over him. He had never looked more alien, nor more human.

Rather than feeling the need to move away, she was struck with the overwhelming urge to hold his hand. Her eyes flickered down. They were casually entwined on his lap, and she noted the way his two index fingers remained straight, their tips pressed together and pointed forward. It was interesting, she thought, how Ulquiorra sat with his legs crossed.

Hesitantly, she reached out, refusing to meet his eyes lest she lose her nerve, and hooked her finger over his, trying to coax his hand closer to her. She half feared that he would pull away, but instead, he obligingly untangled his hands from one another and allowed her to do as she pleased. She slipped her fingers between his and lowered their hands between their hips, for some reason not wanting Grimmjow to see. It was embarrassing, but Orihime was a creature who relied on touch. In this bright, overwhelming new world, she felt desperate for something to anchor her. So she boldly pressed her palm into his, once again turning to stare out the window. She avoided his eyes, too afraid to want to see his expression.

He had reached out to her once before, after all...It wasn't so strange that she felt the impulse to do the same to him now. She of course, did not take into her account her utter inability to focus on anything else. His hand was long and slender, with a large palm that dwarfed her own. It was smooth and firm, but not really soft. While not hot, it was warm, unlike hers which she could feel becoming sweaty from her nerves.

She was holding hands with _Ulquiorra_!

Her heart began to race. She hadn't really meant anything by it - it had just been a wayward impulse that she had followed. But now that she thought about it, it meant a lot! In the dark, secretly...she had even gone so far as it hide it from Grimmjow. If it were truly an innocent gesture she wouldn't have bothered. And they had been doing it for a long time now, almost ten minutes. The longest ten minutes of her life. And he had yet to let go or tighten his grip or even twitch in her grasp. Was he even paying attention? Had he perhaps forgotten? Impossible, how could he?

She could no longer resist the urge to look. She turned to glance at Ulquiorra through her lashes, a heavy blush now colouring her skin. He was looking straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to her distress, green eyes taking in the road in front of them. He didn't seem bothered at all. His other hand rested flat over his knee.

She forced her nerves to still. So what if she held hands with Ulquiorra? No one was there to see or judge her. If Grimmjow saw he might tease her, but he wouldn't condemn her or anything...the only people who would do that were far, far away now. Ulquiorra himself clearly didn't care, and it made her feel happy and strangely...smug. That wasn't an emotion she felt often, but she couldn't help but feel like being allowed to touch him was a great privilege that he would only give to certain people. He _had_ said she was the least annoying person he knew. Did that mean 'I like you' in Ulquiorra-speak? She doubted he'd let someone he didn't like hold his hand. Which meant...well, she wasn't sure exactly, but it felt like a good thing.

So in typical fashion, she smiled to herself, put the matter to rest and thought no more of it as she continued to hold his hand the remainder of their journey, oblivious to the eyes that turned to observe her the moment she looked away.

It took them approximately half an hour's drive through the city before their driver pulled up in front of a tall building, with what she counted to be at least ten stories. The driver got out as if to open the door for them, but Grimmjow was quicker, shoving it open and stepping into the evening air eagerly. Ulquiorra's hand slipped out of hers as if it had never been there to begin with and he gracefully slid out after Grimmjow. Orihime hesitated for only a moment before following them out.

Her boots touched the pavement outside and she stared up at the building before her.

It was obviously a new structure judging by the modern design. Tall, grey and well-maintained, it was actually a fairly attractive sight with the warm yellow glow that escaped from several windows. Every floor had a room with a balcony it seemed, and she could see potted plants and deck chairs on the lower levels. On its right was a wall stretching out for some time before the next building appeared, and Orihime guessed by the trees she saw that there was a large garden or perhaps a communal pool behind it, judging by the loud splash she heard. On its left the road continued up on an incline and she could hear music and laughter coming from one of the neighboring buildings. She could also detect the heavenly scent of fried chicken coming from somewhere in the area. The air smelled of cigarette smoke and food and something entirely unfamiliar to home.

Directly in front of them, several wide steps up led to a pair of revolving doors, beyond which she could see a well-furnished lobby area. A security guard stood to the left, watching the three of them with interest.

A tall Japanese man who looked to be in his late thirties exited through the revolving doors and descended the steps to meet them. He strolled briskly up to Ulquiorra and held out his hand. Orihime watched with interest as Ulquiorra shook it firmly before returning his hand to his pocket.

"Eric," he greeted coolly.

"Ulquiorra-sama. I trust you had a pleasant flight." The man, Eric, spoke Japanese in a no-nonsense tone of voice and had the air of a veteran disciplinarian about him. He also seemed to understand Ulquiorra, because he pressed forward without waiting for a response. "Everything has been prepared, sir. Most tenants know nothing about your arrival, and I didn't see the point in informing them. It would only put unnecessary attention on you. They will become aware of you in their own time. Should anyone become a bother to you, inform me and I will ensure that they are taken care of."

Ulquiorra nodded. Eric turned to Grimmjow and bowed formally. "Grimmjow-sama." Orihime grinned. Eric was a sharp one - he showed Grimmjow respect without putting his hand in danger. Grimmjow scoffed at the formality and averted his eyes. Unbothered, Eric turned to her and, clearly not deeming her as much of a threat, offered his hand.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," he said formally. Orihime blushed and shook his hand enthusiastically.

"Inoue Orihime, sir! A pleasure to meet you."

He gave a small smile and then spoke in English. "If you'll follow me."

"A moment, Eric," Ulquiorra said, also in English. He nodded to Grimmjow, who rolled his eyes, but turned to rummage in the car, dragging Nel out by her ankle and slinging her over his shoulder once more. Orihime eyed the security guard nervously, but the presence of Eric must have kept him in his place because the five of them entered the building together without protest.

The interior of the lobby was of clean, eggshell tiled floors and dark, wood paneled walls. Dark leather seats sat along the sides with the occasional potted fern for decor. Behind a smart, ebony reception area sat a bored looking young woman chewing on a stick of gum.

"Eriiic," she whined, "Are you done yet? This is booorring. I don't get how you can do this crap all day..."

Her blue eyes livened somewhat when she caught sight of Ulquiorra. She grinned. "Oi, who's this now? You've been holding out on me, Eric, you bastard. How many times have I told you I'm looking to be set up?"

Eric's flinty eyes softened somewhat. "How many times have I told you that I will never condemn a young man to your incessant nagging?"

The woman popped her gum and chuckled. She leaned over the counter and extended her hand. "Hiya. Hannah Pemberly. I live in 6A, but Eric's had me stuck down here all day while he prepared for you guys."

Ulquiorra stared down at her hand in silence, and sensing Hannah's growing annoyance, Orihime stepped forward and shook it emphatically. Americans sure did like their hand shaking.

"I'm Inoue Orihime, nice to meet you Hannah-san," Orihime stuttered out in her clumsy English. Hannah blinked at her for a moment before letting out a long squeal.

"Oh my God, you are so cuuuute!" Hannah seemed barely able to contain herself, "And so pretty too! No wonder Mr. Pale over there was so rude! I bet he's your boyfriend, huh? And you guys are moving into the Penthouse too! Ugh, I'm so jealous I could kill you!"

Orihime hesitated. Hannah spoke very quickly and it took her a while to work through everything she had said. She looked to Ulquiorra for assistance. His eyes had already drifted away from the conversation.

Eric took the hint to head for the set of elevators to their left. Beside the elevators, running next to the wall, was a set of stairs leading up. Orihime was grateful they wouldn't be climbing them. She gave Hannah a small bow before following after the others. Hannah watched them leave with interest.

When Hannah noticed Grimmjow behind the others, as well as Nel, she frowned. "Hey, is that chick okay?" she called.

The elevator doors closed and Hannah sat back in her seat, crossing her arms. What a weird bunch of people.

The inside of the elevator was made of dark mahogany wood. From appearances, there seemed to be twelve floors in total, including the Penthouse. Eric brought out a set of keys and inserted one into the keyhole on top of the panel of buttons. Beside the keyhole, a large round button with the letter 'P' on it lit up. Orihime felt her stomach jump in excitement.

"Miss Pemberly is a good person," Eric said on the ride up, "But very nosy. To prevent any unfortunate developments, I would avoid her if I were you."

Orihime wasn't sure if she was imagining the tinge of protectiveness, no - of threatening - that seemed to lace Eric's perfectly calm words.

The elevators opened up into a short wooden corridor with a tasteful cream carpet. A few paintings lined the walls, but Orihime didn't get the chance to examine them as they were led down to corridor which turned to the left and up to a wide wooden door. Eric inserted another key, this time large and brass, and the door swung open. They stepped inside.

Orihime gasped at the sight that met her. Even Grimmjow let out an impressed whistle.

It seemed to be several rooms packed into one massive room, with no walls between them. The floors and furniture were dark wood and the fabrics of the chairs and couches were a delicate cream. The room seemed to be made of glass walls, showing the city extending all around them and the ocean to their right. To their left was obviously the kitchen, with black marble counters and shiny silver appliances. A large rectangular island and barstools separated the kitchen from a set of wooden stairs leading up into the middle of the ceiling.

Behind the stairs, an entire portion of the wall had made way for a flat screen TV, with couches and a red and black Persian rug in front of it. Between the TV and the kitchen was a closed door. On their right was what she assumed to be the dining area, with a large table and chairs. Outside, she could distinctly make out a barbeque grill and table and, unless her eyes were deceiving her, a small round pool.

Eric opened the door next to the kitchen, revealing what he referred to as the 'downstairs bathroom'. It featured the same dark brown and cream theme and sported both a shower and bath.

Upstairs, the landing stretched out to include another set of couches overlooking the apartment from behind the glass panel railing. Beyond that was a corridor, leading to three rooms. At the first door, Eric stopped and turned to Grimmjow. "Orihime-sama and Nel-sama's room." Grimmjow cocked a brow at that, and sent Ulquiorra an odd look, but didn't say anything. Eric opened the door and the blue haired Espada slouched inside.

Orihime took a peek in and found a room just as lavishly furnished as the rest of the place. Two double beds sat on opposite ends of the room, each looking sinfully comfortable. On the right hand side the glass wall showed a gorgeous view of the city. On the left, a door led to another bathroom. Grimmjow dumped Nel on the bed to the right, for which Orihime was secretly glad - she thought the view was lovely, but the height scared her. She stepped over to the bed on the left, brushing her hands over the luxurious brown satin sheets. Another TV was embedded in the wall directly across from the door and she spotted a remote for it on her bedside table. There were two dressers in the room, seemingly one for her and one for Nel. She followed the other out as they left, ready to continue the tour. Grimmjow and Ulquiorra's room was very similar to hers. It was the third room that baffled her.

It was by far smaller than the others, though still not cramped. Every surface seemed to be covered in some kind of monitor or console, meaning it was coloured mostly black and silver. Ulquiorra and Eric had a hushed discussion in English, but Orihime could make neither heads nor tails of most of the words they were saying, and she suspected that this was intentional. There seemed to be many wires and buttons that she didn't understand, and she was only brought out of her daze when Ulquiorra stepped in front of her.

"You will stay out of this room from this point onwards," he said. Orihime grimaced. It wasn't a request.

"Okay," she answered meekly. Ulquiorra nodded and the four of them exited.

Eric handed Ulquiorra a set of keys and then bowed. "If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to call downstairs. The kitchen is fully stocked, but room service is available if you dial 100 on the landline." He gave a short bow before disappearing downstairs. Orihime watched Ulquiorra shut and lock the door to the mysterious third room. The sound of Eric closing the front door came from downstairs.

The silence barely had time to settle before a loud thump and a cry came from Orihime's new room.

* * *

A/N: I really struggled with this chapter, since it's very much a transition scene which meant I had to juggle with not letting the pace lag and also keeping it un-rushed and interesting. It was also a pain in the ass to write all the descriptions about their new 'home', but I figured you guys would want to get a good idea about where they're living now for future chapters. It didn't contain much dialogue, which peeves me off, because I love writing dialogue, but I can promise that the next chapter will have oodles of nonstop character interaction.

Let me know what you think, dearies! Your reviews bring me much joy.


	10. Reunion

A/N: Check out the fic 'Reversal' by Flow-of-Life. It's a really great Ulquihime one-shot that I just love. It's in my favourites :)

**Chapter 10 - Reunion:**

* * *

He had never really _hated_ weakness in others. Some people were just stronger. He'd have to be an idiot to think the world could work any other way. Even his Fraccion, who he had witnessed working slavishly to evolve, just did not have the capacity for it.

There were a rare few in existence who had managed to claw their way to the top. It was a mammoth task, fuelled by instinct and sheer willpower. Those who became Vasto Lorde were so few and far between that one meeting another was almost unheard of.

And then Aizen came fucked it all up. Suddenly, the power that had taken some centuries to accumulate had been reduced to the plaything of any lowly Hollow whom Aizen took a shine to. The hybrid Arrancar ran amuck. The Vasto Lordes and Adjuchas were once again prey.

Until Aizen gathered them into one tidy little group and offered them all the one thing that they craved; evolution.

Most of them had, by that point, found something to obsess over. After all, what else could such creatures do at that point, when their growth had come to a halt. Aizen had used these obsessions to coax them into accepting his rule. Harribel, with her incessant desire to protect those bitchy Fraccion of hers, and Szayel Aporro with his demented need to discover and pick apart knew things. They had all evolved to a point where they wanted their power for a reason _beyond_ instinct.

But Grimmjow knew he was different. Perhaps his personality had been one of a beast before death, because he still wanted power for the same reason as before; to be stronger.

Power for power's sake. He didn't want to rule the world like Aizen, or protect someone or any of that crap. He just wanted strength to be strong. The strong could do anything, he didn't have to think so far ahead as to what he wanted his strength for. Grimmjow would make decisions on the fly about that sort of thing. He had wanted to save the Princess in that moment and his strength had allowed him to. He had wanted to kill Kurosaki and his strength had...well, almost allowed him to.

He had no _goals_, per se. He simply wanted to be stronger than everyone else. Power was currency in his world, and for the rich, the possibilities were endless. To destroy whatever he wanted, and, if he were feeling abnormally charitable, protect whatever he wanted. He wanted to be able to watch the world burn and laugh because he had lost nothing in the flames. Everything he needed he already had. Freedom. Destruction. Independence. Power. That was what drove Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez forward.

And yet now he found himself surrounded by circumstances totally and completely out of his control. He was stuck with following Ulquiorra if he wanted to live, he was stuck with Ulquiorra's human pet, and now, damn it all to hell, he was stuck with a pathetic mess of a woman he had actually once respected.

Neliel Tu Oderschvank had been an impressive specimen. Grimmjow could appreciate a good looking woman when he saw one, even if he had never been particularly interested in chasing tail when he had more important things to do. She had been stronger than him back then, something which inevitably irked him but which he didn't take personally, unlike Nnoitora. After all, he had regarded it as a temporary circumstance. Grimmjow was confident that he would be stronger than them all one day.

A poised, intelligent, beautiful woman was never something a man should sneer at. Women like that were just another reason to gain power.

Of course, he had still rejected every offer of friendship, every gentle smile, every worried look if he was injured or feeling particularly ill-tempered. He would never in a million years accept anyone's pity and women like that were also a dangerous distraction, especially if they happened to hold the upper hand.

The situation had changed drastically.

He sat on the edge of the princess's bed with his elbows resting on his knees, watching the scene before him with a dispassionate expression that gave away none of the disgust he felt inside. Beside him, Ulquiorra stood and observed in silence. Grimmjow had never before imagined a scenario where he might willingly work with Schiffer, and yet there they were, a clearly united front of male solidarity in the face of female hysteria. Oddly enough, for once he was grateful for the man's stoicism. In a moment of clarity he pondered if Ulquiorra felt the same way, judging by the way he had gravitated to Grimmjow's side.

Internally, he gave a snort of disgust.

Neliel and the princess were on the floor between the two beds. Orihime was trying to comfort the half crazed woman who sat with her knees pulled up, hiding her face. Her hands clutched her head and she rocked back and forth, her sneakers twisting against the cream shag carpet. Orihime rubbed up and down Neliel's back and she said desperately, "Nel-chan, please, tell me what's wrong! I can't help you if you don't tell me..." the Princess hesitated and sent Ulquiorra a blatant plea for assistance with her eyes. Grimmjow half expected the heartless bastard to ignore her, just to watch her squirm. But in a rare display of mercy, Ulquiorra blinked at the human and slowly turned to Nel.

"What do you remember, Neliel?"

Nel clutched her head harder, rocking back and forth and it appeared she had no intention of answering. Grimmjow felt himself grinding his teeth. What a colossal fucking waste.

But then Neliel shuddered and began to speak in a shaky, terrified voice, muffled by her knees.

"Nel doesn't...Nel means...I don't...know. Nel remembers - _I_ remember everything. But it doesn't feel like Nel's memories. Nel doesn't feel like...I'm not _her_." Her head shot up to face the two men, and Grimmjow's eyebrows rose at the sight of the familiar scar across her face that had certainly _not _been a part of the faux body's design. He could clearly see the tears in her tortured eyes. "Nel is not _Neliel_. Nel is just...I'm just..."

She began to sob. The princess's face mutated into that despicable expression of pity that he loathed so much and she pulled the weeping woman into her bosom and continued rubbing her back. She sent the two silent men a helpless look. Grimmjow could almost condone her pity, given that he felt something unsettlingly similar for the former Espada.

"Neliel," Ulquiorra began, stepping forward. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes up at him, curious to see how he would handle the situation. "It is clear that it will take time for your mind to adjust. I suggest you calm down. Hysterics will not help you recover."

Grimmjow, despite himself, couldn't help but agree.

After a while Nel sniffled and dragged her face to blink tearfully up at Ulquiorra. Grimmjow despised the fear, and more so, the _hope_ in her eyes. "Ulquiorra-sama thinks Nel - thinks _I _will...get better?"

Ulquiorra stared down at her calmly. "It is inevitable."

Nel hiccuped softly. "But I'm so..._broken_."

Grimmjow suddenly found his already prominent hatred for Nnoitora grow. Ulquiorra sighed impatiently.

"You lived with the mentality of a child for years. It's natural that even after regaining your memories you would have difficulty connecting to the woman you once were."

As if realizing that Ulquiorra's ability to remain sensitive to the distraught woman's needs was fast fading, Orihime cut in. "It will just take some time, Nel-cha...er, Nel-san."

Nel whimpered with big, uncertain eyes. Grimmjow watched her slender nose wrinkle as she sniffled, her face seeming so naked without her estigma. Sensing his gaze, she made eye contact with him. She searched his face as if trying to discover the answer to an equation . At first Grimmjow only saw the trembling little girl who he had come upon when taking the Princess to heal Kurosaki. Snot and tears and quivering lips.

And then he saw _her_. It was only for a second, but the old Neliel stared up at him and smiled _that_ _smile_. "Okay. Nel will try."

* * *

The _'Princess Tracker 2000'_ was met with slow, uncertain applause as the bicycle helmet lit up with flowers, ponies and various other overtly feminine things the moment the buckle was clicked into place under Tatsuki's chin.

Urahara gave an enthusiastic whoop, seemingly oblivious to the bland, longsuffering looks he was receiving. He slapped his trademark fan against his palm, grinning out from under his hat at his audience. They sat in one of the back rooms of Urahara Shoten around a large round table. The Vizard had opted to remain in their warehouse until they were needed, or, as Hiyori had so graciously put it, "Whenever you idiots actually have a plan".

So those who remained included Uryuu, Sado, Tatsuki from the humans and, as usual, Renji and Rukia. Toushirou had gone off to Hueco Mundo again with Mayuri's retrieval team in search of Rangiku.

Notable additions to the team thus included Byakuya and Kenpachi. The former sat silently between his sister and Renji, doing his best to ignore the genuine and rather uncharacteristically girlish excitement Rukia displayed upon viewing the helmet's new look, while the latter sat hunched over beside Uryuu, listening to the running commentary of the pink-haired child on his shoulder as she explained why the helmet was 'weird and lame'.

Uryuu had at first been hesitant about the two newcomers, who he was pretty confident had very little interest in Orihime's well-being. Their reasoning had also been fairly questionable. As Yachiru had so cheerfully explained, 'Ken-chan' wanted to find 'Big-boobies' because she was resurrecting the Espada and there might be a good fight in it for him.

Byakuya had stared at him dispassionately while saying that someone needed to supervise the team, given the danger of the potential threat, as Kenpachi had already made it clear that he wasn't there to babysit. Uryuu was uncomfortable with working with the man, but Rukia's supportive nods and sideways glances that clearly expressed nothing but admiration and, if his eyes weren't deceiving him, _adoration, _convinced him to keep his peace.

Uryuu would never understand the strange relationship between the adoptive siblings, but he had an inkling that there was more than just obligation driving Byakuya to help them. Regardless, he chose to be grateful for the help.

And so they were all cramped in Urahara's shop, aware that two young assistants were outside eavesdropping on their every word and that Tessai was in another room tending to Ichigo. Uryuu had never missed the orange idiot's presence more.

Rubbing his temples against an oncoming headache, he leveled Urahara with a tired look, gesturing to Tatsuki's head. "So this means that Inoue-san is in the real world?"

Urahara gave a disturbing flash of teeth.

"Correct! All that remains now is to pick a direction and go!"

Uryuu stared at him blankly, his thought process coming to a screeching halt and even more exhaustion washing over him. "What do you mean by 'pick a direction'? You mean this thing isn't going to help us track her?"

Urahara frowned, seemingly put out by the question. "Well, no. Only if we get within a certain range."

Uryuu twitched, his fingers drumming impatiently across the table. "She could be anywhere on the _planet_ though."

Urahara raised his hands defensively. "It was the best I could do, Ishida-san, of that I can assure you. Regrettably, Arisawa-san is only a human. Were she a Shinigami, her ability to sense Inoue-san would be far greater." He patted the crestfallen girl on the shoulder. "But as she is the only one with a spiritual link, we simply have to make do. Her range with that device on is far more powerful than anyone at this table when regarding Inoue-san."

Uryuu inhaled slowly. The man was right, of course. Tatsuki was giving them a huge advantage already. Just not as big an advantage as they needed. He heard the familiar beeping of Rukia texting and frowned at the small woman. She was staring intently at her phone, fingers flying over the keys.

Renji leaned over in front of his captain to peer down at her. "What are you looking at?"

"Just checking something..." she muttered before looking up triumphantly. "Aha. Soul Society picked up a garganta opening in Karakura yesterday."

"What?" Uryuu exclaimed, "Why the hell wasn't this reported to us?"

Rukia frowned down at her screen. "Because it says nothing was detected coming through. It was passed off as a glitch in the system."

Uryuu's mind began to race, and he shared a glance with Urahara. The candy salesman rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes shadowed and calculating. "When was this?"

Rukia looked down to check. "Approximately 16 hours ago."

"So last night then..." Uryuu's eyes widened.

"That's when I first sensed Orihime!" Tatsuki cried.

"That can't possibly be a coincidence," Uryuu concluded. "Kuchiki-san, get us the exact location of where the garganta was detected."

Rukia nodded and continued her dextrous texting.

Uryuu turned to Urahara and blinked, noticing something for the first time. "Where is Yoruichi-san?"

Urahara smiled enigmatically, his fan flipping open to cover the lower half of his face. "Why, she's off doing what she does best."

Uryuu rolled his eyes, realizing he probably shouldn't voice his opinions out loud in the present company. He would just be grateful that someone was out there keeping an eye on the Soul Society.

"Got it," Rukia suddenly called out, giving the exact co-ordinates of the garganta. Uryuu frowned.

"That's not too far from here."

"It's not too far from anywhere. This town is puny," Renji interjected.

Uryuu nodded. "Still, it's close to Inoue-san's apartment."

Tatsuki frowned, looking slightly ridiculous under her new headgear. "You think she went back for something?"

"It's worth looking into," he replied

"In that case," Sado piped up, "We might want to consider putting out posters. Like for missing persons. It could give us a lead if anyone's seen her."

Tatsuki nodded enthusiastically at the idea. It felt like they were finally getting somewhere. But Uryuu was reluctant.

"I don't know. We'd have to file a missing persons report with the police. Do we really want to drag humans into this mess?"

Tatsuki's face fell.

To everyone's surprise, Byakuya spoke up. "I believe it is worth the risk. If Inoue Orihime is bringing back the Espada, any human lives lost in the search for her are paltry compared to the potential death toll if she is not found."

Urahara sighed. "Unfortunately, I agree with Byakuya-san. And with Orihime's powers, anyone lost could possibly be brought back and their memories could be modified."

"You can't modify the memory of an entire town though," Rukia pointed out. "If we're going public with this, there's no going back."

Uryuu pushed his glasses up his nose, realizing they needed to make the tough decision. "You're right Kuchiki-san. When we get Inoue-san back, having announced her as a missing person will have a dramatic effect on her life. But we don't really have many options here. The most important thing is getting her back safely."

"We can always come up with a story to deal with the fallout later," Urahara said.

Uryuu nodded. "Right. So, Kuchiki-san, Sado-kun and Arisawa-san, you three go investigate Inoue-san's house. I'll go file the missing persons report. Everyone else..." he scratched the back of his neck, "I really don't want to say this, but you guys split up and search for clues."

"I get it, Ishida!" Rukia exclaimed seriously, thumping her fist into her other hand. "You're just like those cheesy detectives from TV."

Uryuu scowled. "I said I didn't want to say it!"

* * *

Orihime watched Ulquiorra leave the room with thoughtful, contemplative eyes. He had been surprisingly helpful. Ulquiorra was apparently the kind of guy who could breeze into a situation of panic and just calm everyone down with his never-ending wealth of logic and calm reasoning. She admired that. When other people panicked, she had a tendency to get flustered with her inability to help out.

She turned to Nel, who was getting to her feet and she followed suite, stretching her limbs gratefully. Nel had been freaking out for quite some time, and she was extremely thankful that she finally seemed okay.

Blinking curiously, she took note of the one person who had yet to leave. Grimmjow watched the pair of them like a hawk, with lazy, predatory eyes. No, not _them _actually. Just Nel. She cocked her head upon realizing that Nel had noticed this too.

"Grimmjow-kun," the former Espada greeted shyly, the first words she had said to him. Orihime frowned in confusion.

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, and she realized he must have also noticed how Nel addressed with far more familiarity and far less respect than she had Ulquiorra. "Yo," he greeted.

She watched with a stunned expression as Nel approached him on shaky legs before throwing her arms around him. Grimmjow froze. His eyes widened and locked with Orihime's from over Nel's shoulder. She looked on helplessly, her brain running a mile a minute and trying to figure out what on earth was happening. Nel had never indicated that she was friendly with Grimmjow - in fact, she had seemed terrified of him! And yet now she was hugging him the same way she had hugged Kurosaki-kun, with unhindered affection.

No, she thought, it was actually just plain weird to see _anyone_ hugging Grimmjow._ Ulquiorra_ was more huggable than Grimmjow, in her opinion, which was a pretty good indication of just how _not_ huggable Grimmjow was. It was like watching someone cuddle a shark, albeit a rather stunned looking shark.

She listened, slack jawed, as the voluptuous woman practically straddling Grimmjow's lap began to mumble into his jacket. "Nel is sorry she forgot you...I let Itsygo fight with you and didn't even realize I was losing my friend." Nel buried her face in his neck. "I'm so sorry for everything..."

A heavy sadness fell over Orihime. Nel had been friends with Grimmjow once, and she had forgotten it? She couldn't imagine the pain she'd feel if she had forgotten Kurosaki-kun, met and befriended Grimmjow, cheered Grimmjow on as they fought and then later remembered Kurosaki-kun again. It would tear her apart.

Grimmjow finally seemed to remember himself, because he shoved Nel's form away and got to his feet. She didn't stumble, but rather stepped back gracefully, staring up at him with a gentle smile. Orihime could see her fondness for the ill-tempered man clearly. He clearly didn't appreciate the sentiment and scowled. "So we're starting on this shit again. How many times have I told you that I'm not your friend?"

Orihime winced and expected Nel to be offended or depressed, but instead she simply smiled secretively, folding her hands coyly behind her back. "Nel remembers."

Grimmjow, seemingly giving the woman up as a lost cause, grimaced and stalked out of the room.

Orihime gaped after him before turning to Nel in shock. "Nel-san! He seemed really mad! You and Grimmjow-san...are you really friends?"

Nel sighed and tossed her hair over her shoulder before collapsing onto Orihime's bed and stretching her limbs. She peered up at Orihime through thick lashes. "Could you close the door please?"

Orihime obediently shut the door and then came to sit beside Nel on the bed, eager for answers. Orihime had never really been apart of 'girl-talk', mostly because the men her friends were after didn't hold her interest. But _Grimmjow_? Now this she had to hear. She wagged a finger at Nel firmly.

"I have to know!" she said, mimicking all of her female friends, "Spill!"

The older woman placed her chin on her hand and grinned up at her. "Well, Grimmjow-kun is more than Nel's friend. Nel remembers that now. Nel _loves_ Grimmjow-kun."

Orihime's jaw dropped, this piece of information far juicier than anything she had expected. Although truthfully, she struggled to comprehend anyone _loving_ Grimmjow. He was charming the same way that spiders were cute. "Wha-seriously? Does he know?"

Nel rolled her eyes back and forth thoughtfully. "Hmmm...probably not."

She recalled the way Nel had hung all over Kurosaki-kun, smothering him with her affection, as well as the way Nel had given Grimmjow similar treatment earlier. She scratched her head sheepishly, pondering on the idiocy of any man incapable of picking up on those signals. "Um...how?"

Nel laughed a sweet, tinkling laugh. "I know what you're thinking. Nel isn't subtle. But Neliel was very loyal to Aizen-sama. She was dedicated to serving him. Neliel believed that fraternising with another Espada would go against Aizen-sama's will. So Neliel never allowed herself to show her true feelings." She closed her eyes. "And Grimmjow-kun never did like Neliel...he didn't like anyone who was stronger than him. I think he sometimes mistook my affection for pity."

"But Nel-san..." Orihime fidgeted with the hem of her shirt awkwardly. How exactly could she go about saying this in a way that wouldn't make her sound like a jealous idiot? "I thought you like...Kurosaki-kun?"

Nel twisted her mouth from side to side. "Oh, yes...Nel _does_ love Itsygo, _obviously_." Orihime winced at the emphasis, "But Nel only _started_ loving Itsygo because she forgot Grimmjow-kun. Itsygo is a lot like Grimmjow-kun." She giggled. "Who knew I had a type!"

Orihime spluttered, "Wha-no! Kurosaki-kun is nothing like Grimmjow-san!" she cried, despite having thought something similar herself earlier.

Nel snorted. "Then either you don't know Itsygo, or you don't know Grimmjow-kun."

Orihime bristled slightly at the offhand accusation. Nel had known Itsy - dammit, Kurosaki-kun! - for less than a week and she assumed that she knew him better? She forced herself to calm down. Nel was clearly a very nice person who probably hadn't meant to offend her at all. Besides, she had indicated that she no longer held interest anyway. She laughed sheepishly to pass of her discomfort and decided to ask another question that was plaguing her.

"What about...Nnoitora-san?"

Nel stiffened, her eyes snapped open. Her face grew serious. Her entire tone of voice lowered and suddenly she sounded like the woman she appeared to be. "Nnoitora was like a child who insisted on playing with fire. I couldn't just sit back and watch him burn to death, no matter how much he claimed to want it. He wasted the opportunity Aizen-sama gave him on fighting because he didn't know any better. I wanted to save him from himself. Nothing more."

Orihime blinked and suddenly Nel's expression was one of youthful innocence again, leaving her feeling dizzy at the transformation. Nel laid her head down on the pillow with a sleepy smile. "But Aizen-sama and Nnoitora aren't here anymore. I can do whatever I want now. Nel just wants to have fun with her friends..."

Orihime stared down at her, instinctively running a hand through her aqua hair as her maternal instincts kicked in. Nel just looked so sweet and innocent, curled up on the bed. Orihime eyed her scar and wanted very much to protect her at that moment. "Do you want to go back to sleep, Nel-san?"

Nel nodded against the pillow. "Will you stay with me, Orihime? Nel is scared to be alone with the memories..."

"Of course." Orihime laid down beside her, blinking in surprise when Nel grabbed her around the waist and cuddled up against her. Slowly, Orihime smiled. She really did like Nel-san.

* * *

Rangiku ended up traveling with her companion deep into the bowels of Hueco Mundo. They had eventually arrived at a forest made of black crystalline trees, and the pair of them walked through the eerie place in silence. The occasional, soul-wrenching howl echoed through the perpetual night air, and more than once Rangiku was certain that she saw red eyes peering at her through the darkness.

Whatever creatures inhabited the area avoided them though. She would often hear the skittering of claws as something caught sight of them and fled. The place made the hair on her arms and neck bristle, and instilled in her a deep sense of unease. Hueco Mundo truly was a miserable place.

Her companion was silent the entire way, but Rangiku never once got the feeling that she was being led into a trap, though the thought had occurred to her. Or perhaps she was just clinging to the hope that he was taking her to the one person she longed to see, and that hope as powerful enough to overshadow all logic.

Rangiku was not the type of woman to lose her will to live over a man, but the wounds of loss were still deep. It had barely been three days and she had granted herself the right to wallow in her misery. She had spent months thinking of him as a traitor...and had lost him just as he proved her wrong. So the thought that he might still be alive was so tantalizing, so breathtaking, that she would willingly and even happily bet her life on it.

The ground they were walking on began to slope down. Slowly at first, but then on a steep incline until the black maw of a cave came into view. The crystalline trees grew closely along the cliff face in front of them, but the route to the cave was clear.

Her companion came to a halt in front of the cave and turned to her, finally speaking.

"He's in there. I'll wait outside and give you two some privacy."

She nodded and set determined eyes on the dark entrance. She crossed the threshold, her eyes adjusting to the sight of a tunnel made of grey rock. She followed it as it curved to the side until she eventually heard the crackling sound and saw the telltale flickering light on the walls of a campfire, although this light was strangely green. She then came to an abrupt stop as she heard his voice. She felt as if someone had hit her on the head with a brick house.

"Where did you go, Espada-san? You've been a while."

Shakily, she forced herself to continue and realized that her footsteps had been echoing rather loudly around the cave. He had obviously heard her approach. She rounded the curve until the cave came to an end and she saw him, just getting to his feet against the wall furthest wall. A small green fire was lit at his feet, made of crystalline twigs, and it sent ghostly shadows over his white frame.

She would never be able to put into words how her heart felt when she wrapped her arms around him that day. How was it possible to feel numbed by shock, pained by sorrow and giddy with love and joy, all at the same time? She didn't know or care, all she knew was that he was alive and solid and real, and she was so happy and terrified and angry and heartbroken and...

He smelled the same.

Her lips were on his before he had the chance to say a word, likely before he even had the chance to realize who she was. She pressed her mouth against him hungrily, desperately, as if she wanted to sink into his very being. Her trembling hands clutched at the cloth over his spine. She was aware of how tense and unresponsive he was, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that he was _there_.

"_Gin,_" she sobbed, realizing that she was openly weeping like she had the day she had lost him.

Her head fell against his chest and she cried like a wounded animal, howling with pure, raw emotion. He had always been slender, but he had never felt more frail. She felt like he might disappear or crumble into nothing, so she gripped him with her considerable strength, unwilling to let him leave her again.

Never again.

It was only when she heard him gasp in pain that she realized the white cloth she was clinging to was covered in blood. _His_ blood. She pulled back, staring up at his face through her tear-stained vision. His eyes were wide open, drinking her in the sight of her. She appraised him similarly and she almost broke down against him one more.

He looked the same as he had back then. His silver hair was streaked with blood. He was still in the same white uniform, and his right arm was still gone. Aizen had ripped it off.

"Are you...real?" he asked. She nodded tearfully.

"Rangiku..." He spoke her name slowly and with awe, as if testing it out. Then his shock seemed to wear off and he pulled back from her slightly, taking a moment to compose himself.

"What are you doing here?"

Rangiku was forced to pick an emotion then, and she chose rage. The sheer heat of her gaze seemed to evaporate her tears and she pushed him violently, forcing him to stumble back against the cave wall.

"What am _I_ doing here? What are _you_ doing here?! You let me think you were _dead! _I couldn't even begin to count the number of lies you've told me, but _that_ one makes me want to _kill_ you!" She turned away, grabbing the hair at her temples lest she attack him further in his clearly injured state. "God, Gin! Do you know what a wreck I've been? You didn't even try and get a message to me, did you? Your friend in the cloak had to drag me out here for you! Why, Gin? Why would you...leave me like that?" She hated how her voice came out as a pathetic whimper.

She heard the rustle of cloth and single arm curled around her waist, pulling her into him. She felt her anger subside and joy envelop her once more. Her hands left her hair and lowered to grip his arm. It had been so long since he had held her. In fact, she couldn't even remember the last time...had they still been children? She felt him nuzzle her neck, inhaling her scent.

"You were never supposed to know..." he murmured into the shell of her ear, sending goosebumps over her flesh.

"But why?" she whispered, staring into the hypnotizing green flames of his campfire, "I know about the issues with Soul Society, but why wouldn't you tell me? Did you think I would turn you in?"

"No. I wanted you to...move on. I'm an evil man, Rangiku. And a failure. You deserve better."

She shook her head. "I know plenty men better than you, Ichimaru Gin, and I've never wanted any of them."

She heard him chuckle lightly. "That's because you're stubborn."

She pulled free from his grip and turned around. She jabbed her finger in his chest pointedly. "Damn straight. And now you and I are going to have a serious talk."

* * *

Nel left Orihime sleeping peacefully and shut the door behind her with a quiet 'click'. She inhaled deeply and stared down at the last door in the corridor, behind which she knew Ulquiorra to be. She had pondered over her decision to search him out for a long while before deciding that she needed to say a few things to him.

She knocked on the door, internally preparing herself for the conversation to come.

"Enter."

Nel pushed the door open and stepped into the dark room, lit up only by two monitors on the walls. She ignored the writing on the screen - she hadn't gone there to spy - and shut the door behind her.

Ulquiorra turned in his chair and his luminous, cat-like eyes glowed up at her. He sat with his legs crossed and his hands folded neatly on his lap. Nel was in awe of his grace for a moment and simply stared.

"Yes?" he said blandly after she had been silent a moment too long. Nel couldn't help herself. He was a magnificent specimen, powerful and dignified. And he had let her, a pitiful, broken excuse for a person, live.

"Ulquiorra-sama," she said softly, reverently, coming to kneel at his feet. She held his gaze, wanting him to see the earnestness in her eyes. "Nel..." she gave an impatient sigh at her speech impediment. "_I_ will never be able to express my gratitude. You spared my life after I betrayed the Espada." She bowed her head. "Nel is forever in your debt!"

She could feel his eyes on the crown of her head. It was the ultimate gesture of submission, to bow ones' neck to an Espada. But Nel felt no shame or fear, only loyalty and thankfulness.

"I trust you will not make me regret my decision," he said in reply.

Nel sat back on her heels and raised her apologetic eyes to meet his. Completely sincere, she said, "I'm afraid I cannot promise that."

He narrowed his eyes at her and Nel felt a shiver of fear rush down her spine. "Really..."

Ulquiorra was very menacing, she realized. Though she had once ranked above him, she felt no authority over the man. Quite the opposite. But there were certain things that she would simply be unable to do, no matter who asked it of her. "Nel is sorry. But if you've brought me with you with the intention of having me kill innocents, you will either have to kill me or let me go."

There was a pregnant pause after this declaration. Ulquiorra's marble features did not shift one bit, but she felt as if somehow his scrutiny became more intense after every second that passed. She had to resist the urge to fidget nervously.

"I see," he finally said. Ulquiorra spun away from her, making her exhale with relief, and his long, pale fingers began to type away on the consoles before him. "I have no intention of making you harm anyone," he said dismissively, "Though you should realize that the Soul Society will never accept you. Should they attack, I highly recommend you defend yourself."

Nel nodded sadly. She knew already that any chance she'd had of allying herself with Soul Society had died the moment she'd become an unwilling participant in Orihime's kidnapping. Her heart lurched at the thought.

"What about Orihime?" she whispered. Ulquiorra paused, and she could practically feel the temperature in the room drop, although his face gave nothing away.

"What about her?" he echoed.

Nel watched him carefully. "Are you going to hurt her?"

She couldn't be imagining the way his features tightened, the first outward sign of discontent he'd displayed. "That has yet to be determined."

Her face fell. "Are you going to...kill her?"

His eyes slithered down to meet hers and she felt as if an iron hand had gripped her soul. "What if I am? What do you intend to do about it, Neliel Tu Oderschvank?"

She lowered her head submissively. Nel felt terribly guilty. Maybe the old her would have tried to protect Orihime, would have been confident enough to oppose Ulquiorra. But no longer. "Then all I ask is that I not be involved. And that I preferably...do not have to watch."

Ulquiorra seemed to size her up for a moment. He turned back to his work. "Fine."

Nel got up and left the room, wishing she had never brought up Orihime. She was a person who was desperate to protect her friends. And she liked the girl, she truly did, but she just wasn't close enough to her to risk her life. She felt dirty and corrupted.

But that was what she was. Even a Hollow like her, who had no desire to hurt anyone, who desperately wished that Orihime could remain unharmed, ended up choosing self preservation.

Nel leaned back against the closed door. She had lost Dondochakka and Pesche. In the end, no matter how strong she was, she had been unable to protect them. It would be easier to simply not grow attached to those who were too weak to defend themselves.

* * *

**A/N:** Phewph, keeping up with all my plot arcs is a bitch. I hope you all enjoy watching how Ishida and them are trying to track Orihime down - I must admit it's pretty fun for me to write how they interpret the clues left behind by the others. The Gin/Rangiku plotline will have more relevance than just simple fanservice, that I can promise. But more on that later.

I hope you guys like my version of Nel! So she remembers everything about her past, but is unable to connect with it on a personal level. And yep, I didn't beat about the bush with regards to her opinion on Grimmjow - she just flat-out loves the guy. Always has. And I hope none of you will think too badly of her for that last little conversation with Ulquiorra. She's a good person, really, but she's also a Hollow and she certainly aint perfect.

Let me know what you guys think_ :)_


	11. Irrelevant

**A/N:** It's been a while guys! Sorry about that, my muse jumped off a cliff and was in a coma for a while there. But it's up and about now - at least until it does something stupid again, like run in front of a bus.

Thank you all so much for your wonderful feedback. I'll admit, I have this terrible problem of starting to think my writing is awful halfway through a story and focusing on all these plot errors and mistakes I think I've made and it totally puts me off my game. But the other night I had an Ulquihime-ish dream for the first time in many a moon, and that prompted me to re-read what I'd written and realize I'm actually quite pleased with it. So hurrah!

I've gone over all previous chapters and edited them, so hopefully I've weeded out any typos lying about. I also changed all instances of Ulquiorra calling Orihime 'onna' to 'woman' and 'cuatro' to 'fourth', 'sexta' to 'sixth' etc. I had a change of heart and was stressing about it for some time before I realized that there was literally nothing stopping me from going back and fixing things to my liking. Nothing plot or dialogue-wise has been changed though, this was purely for my own peace of mind. So you don't need to run off and reread everything unless you want to :)

* * *

**Irrelevant:**

Hideki Hisoka, unranked officer of squad Twelve, was enjoying a quiet drink at a busy pub in the Jurinan district of Rukongai when a tiny, unassuming square of folded parchment slid in front of him. His eyes narrowed and darted to the left where a man, with a face so nondescript it immediately set off warning bells in his head, was sliding off his seat at the bar. He was dressed in the simple garb of a Rukongai resident - he even moved with the unsteady gait of the drunken patrons around him. But when the man met his gaze for a second before turning on his heal and moving for the exit, Hisoka immediately understood that he was not to be followed.

Hisoka lipped the folded paper into his sleeve and spent the next ten minutes finishing his drink, his stoicism hiding whatever inner disquiet he felt.

Once done, he rose to his feet and deposited a few coins on the counter before making his exit, waving goodnight with a perfectly amiable smile to the few who called after him. He walked several blocks through the district, the bright stars lighting his path. Jurinan was relatively quiet, and he strained his ears to be sure he wasn't followed. Aizen-sama had been defeated, a disappointing turn of events, and he had prepared himself for the worst should his true loyalties be discovered. He hadn't expected to be contacted in such a manner though, and adrenaline coursed through his veins as he entered a small forest of trees off the main road.

He stopped beneath a parting of the branches, allowing the moonlight to illuminate the parchment as he removed it from his sleeve and carefully unfolded it. He frowned at the jumbled mess of letters and numbers, clearly printed and not handwritten.

His grip tightened automatically as he reached the bottom of the coded message and recognized the four digit signature indicating just who had contacted him. A man he had never met, but whom reputation said to fear and obey.

Hisoka regained his composure and incinerated the message as instructed, letting off a short burst of kido. He stood in silence for a while, contemplating his orders. He almost felt naive for having believed Aizen-sama truly defeated. Soul Society had won the battle, but the war still raged on.

With a grim countenance he turned and disappeared between the trees.

* * *

Orihime had a nightmare that first night.

She stood in a bare, stone cell, once again in her tattered white uniform. Stained with blood and sweat, the fabric clung to her form, the odor of death that hung over it like a pall sinking into her skin. Even in such a state, her first thought was to wonder if Ulquiorra would still think it suited her. Her hair, greasy and limp, fell over her shoulders, covering the goosebumps on the exposed parts of her skin.

As it went with dreams, she witnessed it all in a third person and could see what lay behind her bedraggled form - an iron door with a little barred window. She had left the door open and so light streamed in from the corridor, sending her shadow into sharp relief. Its elongated form stretched over the cobbled floor until it blended with the unnaturally swirling shadows surrounding a..._thing,_ in the corner.

Its face was hidden and all she could make out was the glint of its eyes, watching her and forcing deep, ragged breaths to escape her chest as she felt a disturbing pressure in her lungs. She was frozen, forced to stare into the thing's malicious gaze. She wished she could see its features so as to dispel the terror squeezing her heart as it peered out at her, like a monster under the bed - obscure and all the more horrifying for its vagueness. She couldn't explain why, but the same thought kept forcefully repeating itself in her head, screaming with blind panic;

_ It was evil!_

She heard footsteps echo behind her, sharp and out of place in the deadly silence of the cell. She could no longer see the door, or whoever was crossing its threshold. Unable to turn around, she was left to quiver in place until she felt a presence at her back. A shiver of fear crept down her spine along with an icy trail of sweat - she was trapped.

"You did it," a voice spoke in a pleased purr, breaking the silence further and she could feel chilly breath on her bare shoulder. She recognized Ulquiorra's voice and her emotions struggled between relief and even further anxiety, unable to decide how she felt about his presence. He sounded wrong though. That was his voice, but certainly not his tone.

"Did what?" she whispered, unable to stop herself as her dream played out on a script that she had no control over. She couldn't bring herself to raise her voice and when Ulquiorra didn't say a word in response she feared he hadn't heard her. But as if the dream was answering for him, her eyes were drawn to the steadily creeping darkness on the stone floor, expanding from around the shadowed figure in the corner. She watched with a growing sense of dread as the darkness grew closer and finally slipped forward into the light, revealing itself to be a bright, obscene crimson.

She tried to scream in horror as the thick, warm blood washed over boots, continuing on its slow forward crawl, but all that escaped her was air. Her lungs strained painfully, attempting to bring power to her voice, her silent scream contorting her visage. She tried to step back, away from the blood, but it was as if her legs had gone numb. The overwhelming smell of copper made her head spin. She was only able to tear her eyes away from the ever growing puddle when the thing in the shadows shifted. She watched as its mouth opened in a glint of teeth, displaying a horrible grin.

_And then the thing whispered something._

She almost retched. It wasn't as if it was so soft that she couldn't hear it, but for the life of her she couldn't make out the words. She heard only slithering, backwards syllables that sent every hair on her body on end at the sound. Everything about the thing in the corner was cloaked and hidden from her sight and understanding, but she had never before felt an aversion so strong. She felt nauseous and dizzy and so very terrified, and still her muted scream continued, sucking oxygen from her lungs.

Behind her she heard Ulquiorra shift and the disconcerting hiss of metal sliding against metal. The thing whispered again, more insistently, and suddenly, without hearing the words, she knew what it was saying, and to whom.

Suddenly in control of her faculties, she cried out, _"No!"_ and turned, her arms flailing through the air.

She felt everything as the blade pierce through her. From the way the sharp edge sliced against her rib, piercing her lung, which instantly collapsed over it like a wet sack, to the sickening feeling of the tip bursting through the skin on her back, sending blood splattering to join the ever growing flood on the floor. As she slumped over, she felt the blade slide against her insides, slicing through her with ease. She felt her eyes burn, felt blood fill her mouth from the back of her throat and bubble over her lips._ She could taste it on her tongue._

She reached out to touch the pale hands holding the blade, seeing Ulquiorra's black fingernails and Murcielago's hilt. She pressed the pads of her fingers against his knuckles, staining his porcelain skin. _Why?_

She raised her tear-filled eyes, wanting to beg him to help her, to make the awful, sickening pain go away.

As Aizen's face grinned down at her, her silent screaming continued.

She woke up drenched in sweat. Instinctively, her hand clawed through the blankets to press against her chest, reassuring herself as she felt the racing heart beneath it. She could hear Nel's soft snoring in the bed beside her and the sounds of the city in the distance, but neither did anything to dispel her fear. Feeling more pure, childlike terror than she had in a long time, she wriggled her way out of bed, the sheets clinging to her skin and wrapping around her legs in a manner that had her panicked and claustrophobic.

She stumbled from the bed, her first thought being to take a shower and wash the nightmare away. She ignored their en-suite bathroom, not wanting to wake Nel up and left to use the one downstairs.

Soon she was dropping her borrowed clothes onto the bathroom floor, tossing a fluffy white towel over the glass door and stepping into the shower. She hissed as the cold water hit her feverish skin, tightening her nipples and every pore almost instantly. She endured about a minute of icy torture before she fumbled with the hot tap and stood beneath the more reasonably lukewarm spray.

She then sank to the shower floor and lowered her face to her knees.

She would be the first to admit that she was a superstitious. She believed in karma and astrology and the tooth fairy, and she already knew ghosts were real. She also believed that dreams _meant something,_ especially dreams like that one.

She shuddered at the memory of Ulquiorra's blade slicing through her. She had never been stabbed, but if the experience was anything like what her imagination had conjured, she didn't understand how Kurosaki-kun could stand to charge into battle with such confidence.

But why would she dream about something like that in the first place? She usually loved to dream. Her imagination had always been particularly colorful - something her friends would never hesitate to point out with an air of fond exasperation. She would sit and construct stories and epic tales in her mind, a skill that was only enhanced by slumber. Very rarely did she have nightmares, despite how her waking thoughts would occasionally stray to darker things. She was comforted by the fact that clearly, deep down, her heart was a place of happiness instead of the hurt and loneliness that often consumed her.

_But that thing in the corner..._

She had never experienced anything so..._horrible._ Whereas her dreams were usually nonsensical and quickly forgotten, that nightmare had been so disturbingly vivid. Unlike the fast paced adventures with little green men or robot dinosaurs, always filled with color and often times food, this one was dark and grim. Shadowy, and yet clearer than any dream before it. Was some cosmic power trying to warn her? But warn her of what? She already knew Ulquiorra was dangerous - there was simply nothing she could do about it. She certainly didn't need to be reminded of the fact in such a disturbing manner. How was she supposed to look at him today without flinching?

_It was all Grimmjow's fault._ She was tempted to give the blue haired man a piece of her mind - he seemed determined to paint Ulquiorra as a monster.

Oh, but her mind knew who the real monster was all too well. And he was defeated - he had to be, or there was no way Ulquiorra would have placed them in hiding. Aizen was gone. Dead or locked away.

With grim resolution she rose to her feet and began to wash, rubbing the soap gently into her skin, soothing herself. She could almost still _smell_ the scent of death that had surrounded her in that cell and she exhaled slowly as the foamy suds were rinsed away down the drain. Running a hand through her wet hair, she turned off the water. She didn't really want to think about the nightmare, or the meaning behind it. She would have enough trouble keeping her cool around a bunch of Ex-spada as it was, without her imagination trying to terrify her.

She pulled the towel down and buried her face in it. She probably wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon.

The pale blue pajamas Nel had lent her fit well, and had a white snowflake print she found incredibly cute, but they had been drenched in her sweat. She picked them up, reluctant to put them back on, but even more reluctant to walk back to her room in a towel. If Grimmjow found her and cornered her in such a state, she wasn't sure she could handle it. And she didn't want to wake Nel up in the middle of the night to ask for new clothes anyway.

She managed to find a comb in the cupboard beneath the sink and spent some time on her hair once dressed. It was a ritual her brother had started whenever she would have a nightmare. He would wash her and then comb her hair, both to soothe her and to stop her from waking up with a wild mess on her head.

The girl in the mirror seemed so much older than she remembered. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes and she realized it actually took effort to make her face relax from it's worried frown. She was going to go grey prematurely at this rate, just like her mother had.

She left the bathroom with a tired sigh, turning off the light as she went, and headed for the stairs.

She only hoped her brother never found out about where she was. She wanted his afterlife to be peaceful, not spent worrying about her. _That had already ended in tragedy once._

She nearly screamed when she caught sight of two cat-like eyes watching her from the darkness of the kitchen. She fumbled for the wall and flipped a light. The ceiling flickered to life directly overhead, revealing Ulquiorra seated in one of the bar-stools at the kitchen island.

"Wha-what are you doing up?" she stuttered out, clutching her hands to her chest, digging her fingers into the skin over her heart. For a moment, the sight of eyes watching her from within shadow had sent her right back to the stone cell in her nightmare. He frowned and she averted her eyes, too cowed to look at him.

_Ulquiorra's breath on her shoulder_, _Ulquiorra's blade piercing through her_ \- pain and fear and...

_Aizen._

_He hadn't done anything. It was just a nightmare. He wouldn't hurt her._

As if he could sense the dark nature of her thoughts, she saw him drum his fingers lightly on the counter-top from her peripheral, long fingers barely grazing the polished surface - an outward manifestation of what? Interest? Impatience?

_Violence?_

Pale hands,_ covered in her blood._

_No. Enough._

"I came to find out why you were stomping around in the middle of the night," he said with quiet contempt, "I thought perhaps you might be foolish enough to attempt an escape."

She shook her head, almost feeling more at ease with the familiar sound of Ulquiorra insulting her and inhaled a steadying breath. She forced herself to look at him - really look at him. The man before her looked nothing like the person from her dream, looked nothing like any previous version of himself even. The Ulquiorra she knew, the image that immediately came to mind when she heard or thought his name, was a creature without a hint of softness or vulnerability. Sterile, uniform crispness.

The Ulquiorra sharing a kitchen with her wore black drawstring pants and was barefoot. She had no idea why this surprised her - it wasn't as if he would sleep with his shoes on. But somehow, it was difficult to reconcile the Espada who had tormented her in Hueco Mundo with the view of his rather adorable toes. Without his coat, the harsh angle of his shoulders curved less menacingly. His wrinkled grey shirt made it quite obvious that he had just rolled out of bed.

In his uniform, he cut a dangerous figure of pristine hard lines and angles. As he was now he looked just like any other human. He sat with better posture than most, and his eyes held an unnatural intensity, but his figure was young and lithe and he was sporting some fairly impressive bed-hair

She pulled herself away from her staring and turned away. "No, I just had a bad dream," she muttered, shuffling past him and searching the cupboards for a glass, suddenly thirsty. "It's _rude_ to say I stomp, by the way. Everyone's a little less graceful than usual when they first wake up."

She silently marveled at how easily she found herself reprimanding Ulquiorra right after her subconscious had gifted her with the knowledge of how it might feel to be impaled by him.

In his usual manner, he ignored her scolding entirely. "Tell me about this dream."

She froze in the midst of filling her glass. She closed the tap stiffly, and stared at the wall, refusing to turn and face him.

What was she supposed to say? 'Well, I had a nightmare about a creepy whispering creature that told you to murder me, which you did, and the whole time I tried to scream but couldn't and then you turned into Aizen. There was blood everywhere. How did you sleep, Ulquiorra-san?'

_She thought not. _

She still had some pride left.

"Why do you care?" she finally said, hoping to throw him off.

She could practically _feel_ his eyes narrowing at her back.

"I could sense your fear this whole time," he drawled coldly, "I am curious as to what would provoke such a powerful reaction from you."

Right - why was she surprised? Of course he would want to know about anything that caused her pain. _So he could play his little psycho-analysis game._

She turned around slowly and leaned back against the sink, staring tiredly into her glass. "I don't really want to talk about it," she said sternly, thought she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.

She wondered if he would force the issue, and stood in silent anticipation for several long moments. She only found the courage to look up when she heard the rustle of cloth as he slid off his seat. He met her gaze squarely, and she couldn't decipher his expression at all. He looked like he always did.

_Completely indifferent._

"Go back to bed," he told her, before turning and heading up the stairs. She watched his legs disappear, a crushing sense of loneliness finding her.

As strange as it might be, she longed for company, even if it had to be his. So she made an impulsive decision.

"Ulquiorra-san! Wait!" she called out in a loud whisper. She hastened around the island and to the foot of the stairs, peering up at where he stood, staring down at her over the railing. She fidgeted nervously as he waited for her to continue. "I, uh, don't really think I could get back to sleep now anyway. Do you maybe want to...to c-come watch a movie or something? With me?"

He frowned at her, probably trying to decipher the exact mental illness that might possess her to extend such an offer. Inwardly, she couldn't help but smack what she imagined as the mini-Orihime in her head that gave her all her bad ideas. What was she doing? _Ulquiorra was not a man whose company one sought out_ \- he was a man whose company one endured quietly and respectfully in the hopes of a merciful death.

Not that she had ever been quiet.

Or respectful for that matter.

She chewed her lip. It was just that...she couldn't stand the thought of being alone just then. She needed companionship, desperately. After Ulquiorra had first taken her to Aizen, she had felt nothing but the heavy weight of solitude, broken only by his painful remarks and threats, and the abuse she suffered from various Arrancar. With Kurosaki-kun's constant battling, she had hardly had time to experience the comfort of just...being with a friendly presence, without worrying about anything. She wasn't sure she could classify him as friendly, but she knew he wasn't the man who had stabbed her in her dream. She felt so much less afraid of the real Ulquiorra than she was of the _idea_ of Ulquiorra. Her imagination conjured up all sorts of sinister and painful things - _how could it not after what stupid Grimmjow had told her?_ \- but when she looked at him, spoke with him and actually stood in his presence...

It was almost like finding out the terrifying monster under the bed was just a...puppy or something.

Slowly, the Espada descended the stairs, and now he had on that familiar expression - the one he would get whenever she did something he didn't like. Like restless frustration and a hungry desire for understanding all rolled into nothing but slightly pursed lips and a furrowed brow. He stopped a step above the ground, making his lithe form tower over her.

When he did nothing but stare, she hesitantly turned around, sending the occasional nervous glance over her shoulder, and navigated her way through the dark to the TV area. She heard light footsteps behind her indicating that Ulquiorra was following and she reassured herself that she wasn't making a huge mistake. She picked up the remote from the coffee table and took a seat on the large leather couch, tucking her feet underneath her. Ulquiorra sat down on the other side, leaving an entire cushion between them.

That was odd - she had become used to him straying closer to her recently. She nibbled on her thumb and slid her eyes over to him, unable to see his face with the kitchen light behind him blinding her. Was something wrong? Had she offended him earlier by acting nervous around him? He was a pretty observant guy, to understate things. He had probably spotted her change in behavior immediately. She felt terrible - _it wasn't fair to him. _He hadn't _done_ anything. There was silence but for the occasional creak of leather as she worried it over.

"Is there a problem?" he said, and she could barely make out the form of his lips moving. She started and looked away, a light blush finding her cheeks. With the light behind him, he was obviously able to see her clearly.

"No. No problem." Self-consciously, she turned on the TV, bathing them in the pale, flashing lights of a scene depicting a car chase. Hastily, she lowered the volume to mute the sound of gunfire and screeching tires.

"Sorry," she whispered to him, eyes wide, "I hope that didn't wake anybody up..." If Grimmjow and Nel came down, it would be a hot mess she wasn't prepared to deal with. Ulquiorra's quiet presence was was she needed. Not another confrontation.

Ulquiorra shifted beside her, leaning back and crossing his legs, apparently making himself comfortable. "It's fine," he gestured to the television, either confident that their roommates hadn't heard, or simply uncaring if they had, "Return the sound."

She nodded and gradually raised the volume until she could just barely make out the words the cute man in the main car was saying to the wide-eyed woman beside him. Orihime for a moment saw herself in the woman's eyes - terrified, but forced to go along for the ride. With a frown she switched channels, not particularly in the mood for something that hit so close to home.

But after flipping through several movies, shows and sports channels, Orihime let out a quiet sigh of frustration and dropped her hand into her lap as she settled on some sort of animal documentary about frogs.

"What is it?" Ulquiorra asked. She huffed.

"Everything's in English," she muttered, pouting. That wasn't really the problem - she understood English more than well enough to enjoy English television. She just couldn't find anything she actually wanted to watch. She was too restless for TV. She turned the volume down to near nothing and set the remote down, sitting up slightly straighter and turning to face him. The light from the TV played over the pair of them, leaving them in darkness when scenes were switched and then lighting them up again. Ulquiorra's eyes glowed at her, his human disguise failing to completely hide his otherworldly nature.

"We could talk instead?" she offered, surprising herself at the hopefulness in her voice. His expression immediately turned suspicious and he didn't hesitate.

"I fail to see what either of us could possibly gain from that."

She frowned, more than a little offended and leaned towards him. "Well...we wouldn't gain anything. We would just talk. Get to know each other better."

It was only a conveniently timed flash of light that allowed her to catch sight of a single one of his eyebrows lifting in the faintest hint of surprise. "I see. And do you think it a wise idea to get to know me, woman?"

She averted her eyes, thinking not only of her dream, but of everything the fourth Espada had done.

_Tormented her. Threatened her. Killed Kurosaki-kun twice and cut of Ishida-kun's hand._

But she also thought of his dying moments, remembered the expression he wore as he reached out to her. There had been no sign of that expression since his return, but she knew that he was different now, despite the coldness in his eyes. His death had changed him, though she had yet to pinpoint how. He hadn't hurt her, even though she had let her emotions get out of hand with him at times - provoked him to the point where even _she_ couldn't believe that she had escaped his wrath physically unscathed. She remembered how hard she had slapped him - wondered why he had let her do it, why he hadn't dodged, or stopped her. Or taken revenge the moment he cornered her in the tower after Aizen had disowned her.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons why she had been able to proclaim so confidently in his final moments that she wasn't afraid of him - even in the tower, questioning her about her heart with so much intensity, he had touched her with only the lightest of touches, despite the threat dripping from his words as he spoke of cracking open her skull.

She looked at him, waiting quietly for her response, and her eyes softened. He was probably still as ruthless a soldier as he had always been, but maybe without Aizen, there was hope.

"I didn't at first. I thought you were a complete jerk," she laughed, both sheepish and determined, "But now I actually think you might not be so bad, Ulquiorra-san!"

He looked away, and she could swear she saw his jaw clench slightly. His lips thinned in an obvious sign of displeasure, though she had a feeling it had nothing to do with her calling him a jerk. "Then you're an idiot," he deadpanned. She nodded happily, hardly bothered by his harsh words any more. With Ulquiorra, she had learned that his actions were far more telling of his state of mind than his words.

And he hadn't left yet.

So, not one to be so easily deterred, she scooted towards him until she was close enough to see the individual lashes around his eyes, even in the dark. His eyes widened ever so slightly at her proximity, as if he were surprised by her boldness. For some reason, this response only emboldened her further, filling her with confidence. She filled her cheek with air as she searched his face, swapping the air from side to side while trying to think of a way to start a conversation with him. Inspiration struck while looking into his eyes.

"What's your favorite color?"

Whatever he had been expecting to come from her up-and-close examination of him, it clearly had not been that. His lips parted silently for moment. "What?"

Orihime smiled at his confusion. She had caught him off guard. It was something she was used to with her friends, who often found her spontaneity vexing. It was somehow more rewarding with Ulquiorra - to get those slightly widened eyes and puzzled scowl. And she had to do so little to get that reaction from him, she didn't even have to try. She could just imagine his response if she started re-enacting one of her robot-dinosaur-alien dreams for him.

"Well, you know," she began, tucking her hair behind her ear and noting his eyes dart towards the movement. It was not uncommon for him to study her more human gestures. "It's a conversation starter - it's one of the first things people usually ask each other."

He turned his body to face her more directly, leaning back against the arm of the couch and she grinned inwardly at his participation. Then he glowered down at her. "That is exactly the sort of arbitrary foolishness I would expect from you humans," he said.

She paused. Perhaps Ulquiorra's participation wasn't the best thing that could happen to a pleasant conversation. But she chuckled and shook her head, finding within her almost a fondness for his prickliness. "And that's exactly the sort of response I expected from you, Ulquiorra-san. Why don't you just answer the question and then you'll see where we go from there? I ask, you ask. It works, I promise."

He stared at her blankly. Clearly he had very little faith in her assurances.

"Come on, " she insisted, placing her hands on the space between them and leaning forward eagerly, fascinated to find her own reflection looming in his eyes, "You have to choose one. A color that you prefer over the other colors? One that you use the most."

"White," he responded after a moment.

She lit up briefly with excitement that he had responded, before her face fell. "White doesn't count!"

He steepled his fingers on his lap and inhaled slowly as if praying for patience. She was almost distracted by the way she could see his tongue swiping over the back of his teeth, possibly a sign that he was annoyed. "Why not?"

She slumped hopelessly, trying to imagine a scenario where he actually gave a satisfactory answer. She wondered if he was just trying to be difficult because he could sense her burning curiosity. It had been an idle question designed to lead to better things, but now she was practically dying to know. "Because it's not a _real_ color. And neither is black, so you can't choose that either."

"I don't understand what you seek to learn from this path of inquiry."

He was over thinking it way too much.

"It's better than sitting here doing nothing, isn't it?" He didn't respond and she sighed. "Well_ I_ think it's better anyway. Come on. Maybe, instead of a color that you use the most...just think of one that 'jumps' out at you when you see it, you know? As in you notice it immediately."

She couldn't contain her gasp when his hand shot out without warning and seized a lock of her hair, pulling it, and her towards him with a firm tug. She held herself painfully still as he brushed the wet strands between his fingers. She watched the contemplative look in his eyes carefully, suddenly very aware of how close she had gotten to him without realizing it. And while she wasn't scared, per se, she was wary of him again, feeling her stomach tighten into a little ball of nerves.

His gaze flickered up to hers, and he must have seen her worry because he leaned forward and muttered, "It would make little sense for you to initiate an encounter with someone you're afraid of, but I've come to realize that you hold sense in the lowest regard."

Her breath hitched - his voice held a note of danger that she hadn't heard since his battle with Kurosaki-kun. She wasn't sure what she had done to provoke him, but she answered carefully nonetheless. "I thought we covered this," she said slowly, "I'm not afraid of you."

His eyes narrowed and like the strike of a viper, his latched onto the back of her head, fingers sliding into her hair and then bunching it together tightly, forcing her to crane her neck back with a harsh pull. She grunted as her spine arched awkwardly.

"Really..." he mocked, his other hand coming up to trace the tip of his finger down her exposed throat, holding her gaze all the while. He searched her face. Her eyes were wide with shock, and she felt tears threatening to spill from the merciless grip stinging her scalp. "You are tonight._ This heart of yours_..." the finger traced down to her chest, pulling aside the v-neck collar on her pajamas so as to press against her bare flesh, "Wouldn't beat so fast otherwise. What exactly did I do to you in your dream?"

She felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. He knew. She didn't know how, but he knew. He must have seen it in her earlier - he had claimed that he could sense her fear. Her behavior in the kitchen must have tipped him off to where those feelings were directed. She pushed against him, tangling her fingers into his shirt. Her jaw clenched. He was too clever, this man. "Stop it. I said I don't want to talk about it."

Her plea fell on deaf ears. He leaned in until she could feel his breath on her skin, until his hand flattened over her heart, slipping beneath her shirt and his chest pressed against hers. There was nothing but their breathing and the sound of her heart racing - a tiny bird beating against it's cage, trying to escape his grasp. He closed his eyes and his nostrils flared, as if he were scenting her. He inhaled deeply.

"I can smell it on you now, _Inoue Orihime,_" His voice dripped with poison around her name. A harsh tug forced her head back further and his face lowered beneath her jaw, his nose running lightly over her jugular. "Why don't you relax," he murmured into her skin, leaving her trembling, "I won't harm you. I just want to feel..." he trailed off, and the hand over her heart curled into her flesh, as if trying to reach inside her. In response, the already frantic organ began to beat that much faster, thumping against his palm.

She struggled against him, but he was like a steel wall, completely unmoved by her efforts to push him away. When she tried to pull back, his grip on her effortlessly kept her in place and he pulled her closer and tightened his hold as a warning. She could only stare helplessly at the ceiling, flickering between light and dark, until his proximity seemed to rob her of oxygen, his body heat and scent leaving her head spinning. Realizing she was trapped, she fell still. "You're already hurting me," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking with limited success.

He paused against her, and she swore she felt him huff irritably, his breath tickling her. He pulled back and frowned down at her. "Tiresome woman," he said before slowly untangling his fingers and releasing her. She immediately pulled away and glared at him, raising a hand to the sore spot on the back of her head. But she did not move to put space between them, mindful of how he had_ let_ her go.

"Please don't do that again," she told him with tremulous authority. He appeared entirely unapologetic and she took a steadying breath, trying to regain her composure. "I was..." she didn't know how to explain how she had felt after her nightmare without giving him more information than she wanted him to have. Her brow pulled together with worry. "In any case, I reassured myself that Ulquiorra-san wouldn't hurt me. So please, don't do stuff like that! I want us to get along. Is that such a terrible thing?"

Her words seem to hang in the air, pitiful and desperate in the wake of his silence. He examined her with indifference, as if her words had bounced right off him, giving no indication that he felt anything for her offer of friendship. She felt a stab of disappointment as the seconds ticked away, feeling nothing if not rejected. Maybe he simply wasn't interested in her for any reason other than to pick her apart and figure out what made her tick.

It was a sad thought, and so it was with a heavy heart that she turned away from him and prepared to get up and leave.

"Your hair."

She froze. Looked at him in bewilderment.

"Eh?"

He gave her a familiar blank stare. "The color," he repeated, before tilting his head and running his eyes over her head with appraisal, "Although less so when it's wet."

She picked up one of the damp locks and glanced down at it, trying to puzzle out his meaning. It took a moment to remember her earlier question, and when she did she looked up at him in disbelief. "You mean you like it? You like the color?"

"Yes," he said simply, "That is my choice."

A bright blush swept over her entire body, leaving her face hot and flushed. It was inconceivable that he would say such a thing, and the shock of it immediately dispelled the bad atmosphere left in the aftermath of their spat. Joy filled her that he had answered her at all. Unbelievably flattered, she ducked her head and rocked in place, stroking her hair down her shoulder, completely embarrassed. "W-well thank you, Ulquiorra-san," she stammered out, "That's really nice of you! I mean, to be honest you're the first person besides Tasuki-chan and Onii-chan to ever say that to me. Most people actually seem to hate it - but even so, for you to choose it as your _favorite_, that's a big deal! A-are you really sure? Grimmjow-san's hair is very pretty too, _way_ prettier than mine actually." She cut herself off and she let off a nervous chuckle at the look on his face. "Or maybe not. But _wow_! Who would have thought Ulquiorra-san would like such a bright color? I would have thought it would hurt your eyes with so much white everywhere in Hueco Mundo. But you _do_ have really vibrant eyes yourself, so maybe that's why..."

She realized she was rambling and took stock of the surprisingly patient look on his face. This would normally be the point where he would cut her off with some scathing insult, but he actually seemed to listen to her with interest. Or maybe he was just interested in how quickly she became a complete mess when someone gave her a complement. She cleared her throat, "Thank you."

He titled his head ever so slightly to the side. "And what about you?"

She blinked. "Me?"

"Yes. Your favorite color."

"Oh!" He was actually doing it - he was, in some small way, accepting her offer. She felt her belly swell with happiness - excitement even. She sat up straight and placed her hands in her lap, determined to answer him seriously. "Let's see...gosh, there's loads of them. Um, I like bright colors like pink and yellow and purple. To be honest, tons of people told me that yellow and purple don't go together, but I took an art class and sensei said that the colors on the opposite sides of the color wheel go together_ because_ they clash really well. So purple and yellow, and orange and blue, and red and green..."

One of his eyebrows cocked. "Orange and blue..." he murmured thoughtfully. "Grimmjow would not be pleased."

She blinked, pausing for a second before letting out a startled laugh. "Oh wow, I didn't even notice that!" She wondered if he even realized he had just made a joke, almost downright giddy that he was making the effort to chat with her. "Anyway, I also like some of the more earthy colors, like browns and greens."

She hesitated, eyes flickering to him and away again quickly as she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. He_ had_ given her a huge compliment after all, and it wasn't like she'd be _lying_ if she said it.

"Like Ulquiorra-san's eyes...That's one of the prettiest kinds of green."

He stared at her quietly for a moment. "You forced me to choose one color only. So you must do the same."

She flailed, even while quietly thrilled at how seriously he was taking her choice. "Oh come on! I'm from the World of the Living - there's too many cool colors for me to choose from!"

His eyes narrowed menacingly. "Choose."

Orihime wandered at the intensity of his question, and suddenly felt like she knew exactly what color he wanted to hear from her. But was it her favorite? She wasn't going to lie to him, that would be insulting. But...it kind of _was_ the most beautiful color out of all of them. Purple and yellow were great, but looked kind of unnatural. Pink clashed with her hair, even though she stubbornly insisted on wearing it. Brown was nice, but only when paired with other colors. Ulquiorra-san's eyes...Well, that color was beautiful, no strings attached.

"Green," she mumbled with a flush, "Green like your eyes."

If he was pleased by her answer, he didn't show it and she hastened to change the subject.

"What's your favorite food?"

As if he were getting the hang of conversing with her, he replied without skipping a beat, "Adjuchas class hollow on the precipice of evolving into Vasto Lorde." He paused thoughtfully, then added, "Or Shinigami."

Orihime hid her face in her hands, although she was smiling and almost positive he was teasing her._ Almost positive..._ "That's not what I meant! I meant _human _food!"

"I have had insufficient experiences with human food to decide."

She lowered her hands and nodded, looking up at him as something occurred to her, "I guess that makes sense. It would have just fallen out anyway, wouldn't it?"

He looked at her as if she had just claimed the sky was yellow. "Fallen?"

"I mean..." she hesitated, wondering if he might find her observation rude, "You kind of had that..." she pointed shyly to his sternum, "_Hole thing_ going on in your chest. Grimmjow-san probably didn't even _have_ a stomach."

"Ah," he said, not looking particularly offended, to her relief, "We have had tea."

"Really?!" she exclaimed, eyes wide, "Didn't it just dribble out all over the place?"

Now he looked at her as if she were the stupidest person to ever draw breath. He gave a solid; "No."

"But how-?"

In a manner that struck her as a bit long-suffering, he explained, "Our bodies naturally convert the sustenance into reishi and absorb it in the same manner."

"Wow, really?" She gasped and leaned forward excitedly, "So you can't get fat no matter what?"

Upon realizing that he had lost her train of thought, she elaborated, "Well, when people eat too much food, they can get fat. But reishi can't make you fat can it? So you can eat as much people food as you like and still never put on a pound!"

He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "I don't know. We have never truly experimented..."

"Hmmm," she interrupted him, "But I've seen fat Shinigami. I wonder..."

"I believe an excess of reishi can cause weight gain, but not as quickly as a human with food."

Orihime nodded thoughtfully, "So it's basically just like having a really great metabolism, but if you overdo it, you still gain weight?"

His eyes drifted away as if he were growing bored with the line of conversation, "I can only postulate. It has never been in my interest to find out."

She shrugged. "Well anyway, that's one thing to look forward to when I die!"

Every muscle in her body instinctively stiffened when she saw the glowering look he was giving her, feeling as if she had said something wrong. "Is this the reason why you refused to eat in Las Noches?" he demanded, "To avoid weight gain?"

Instantly relaxing, she laughed, understanding his sudden annoyance, "Oh my gosh, _no_, that would have just been silly! I usually eat like a pig. I just wasn't feeling very hungry because of the situation."

His index finger began to tap on his lap impatiently, "So you eat like a pig now and still manage to maintain a perfect physique. I don't see how absorbing reishi instead of food would possibly make any difference to you."

She once again turned bright red. "I-uh-wow-_you really think so?_ Th-thank you, I've actually always worried about it because I'm kind of heavy in certain places..."

Ulquiorra, for the first time in her memory, openly checked her out. His gaze swept over her body, leaving goosebumps in its wake, lingering in her thighs, her hips and finally, her breasts, before slowly sliding back up to her face, which was lit up like the sun. "Is it not preferable for a woman to be heavy in those areas?" he asked in his usual monotone.

She thought she might _actually_ die. "Um. _Yes?"_

He closed his eyes and turned away. "Then you should stop worrying about it. Tell me your favorite food."

Orihime was certain she'd gotten whiplash from his sudden change of subject. She took a moment to recover from receiving a second complement from Ulquiorra, whose hobby she had assumed it was to insult her. Did he even know he was doing it, or was he just 'making observations' like he always did and coincidentally some of them happened to be nice ones? She couldn't imagine that he would ever try to purposely flatter her...that would be totally out of character.

As embarrassing it was to have him look at her like that, she couldn't help but think with a small smile; he thought her body was..._preferable._

"_Uh..._" she droned, slowly trying to pull herself away from such scandalous thoughts, "I've always loved red bean paste. I put it on everything."

"What is red bean paste?"

Her face lit up, as it often did when she spoke about food, "It's like this sweet red paste made from azuki beans, but it's got lots of honey and sugar in it, so it makes everything taste like desert." She closed her eyes as slightly less than happy memories came to her, "Onii-chan used to buy it because it was cheap and we didn't always have the money for really nice food."

Ulquiorra remained silent, observing her shifting emotions quietly.

She chuckled fondly, moving on from the sad thoughts of her childhood struggles. "All my friends think my food is really gross though. Except Rangiku-san. They say my taste in food is weird because I put butter on sweet potatoes. It's delicious though!" she insisted.

He tilted his head down at her, getting that look he got when he was about to explain something. "It makes sense. Your friends will have grown up in privileged households, whereas your palate developed around less expensive foods. You likely developed cost-effective methods of keeping your meals interesting that your friends would never even consider."

She gaped at him. She never would have expected something so insightful. "Woah. That actually does make so much sense! I wonder if Rangiku-san grew up poor then?"

"Most Shinigami come from Rukongai, a place notorious for its violence and rampant poverty."

She nodded seriously, suddenly understanding why she had always seemed to have a sort of kinship with Rangiku. She then gave him a sideways look, narrowing her eyes with a smile. "You're really smart, Ulquiorra-san."

He frowned at her complement. "It's a fairly obvious observation. Any one of your friends would have surely made the same if you discussed this with them."

She sighed. "Yes, but I never talk to my friends about this kind of stuff." She tried to imagine talking about colors and food and Shinigami metabolism's with Kurosaki-kun or Sado-kun or even Kuchiki-san. They would indulge her with polite, perhaps even fond tolerance, but it would be quite obvious that they had better things to do. "Tatsuki-chan is completely out of the loop with all the Shinigami-Hollow drama, and she's usually the one I go to talk to. It seems like a waste of time to bring it up with anyone else, so..."

"And yet you are perfectly comfortable wasting my time?" he asked silkily.

His words cut her to the core, shattering immediately the brief happiness she had found in the belief that he wanted to talk with her. She flinched and began to rise from the couch. "Sorry, y-you're right...I didn't mean to impose on you or anything, I just thought..."

His firm grip on her arm stopped her.

"That wasn't my point. I have not considered this a waste, or I assure you I wouldn't be here. Perhaps you allow your own insecurities to make decisions that are for others to make." He narrowed his eyes. "Sit down. I will tell you when I no longer want to talk."

Flabbergasted, she collapsed back into her seat and he released her. "So, you're not bored or anything?"

"No."

It was such a simple response, and yet it shocked her. "Okay. Thank you."

He waved her thanks away with an impatient flick of his wrist. "You don't need to thank me. That would imply that I am doing you a favor. I never do anything I don't want to do."

She lowered her eyes. "Not even for Aizen-sama?"

"I wish to serve Aizen-sama. That's all there is to it."

"But why-?"

"Talk about something else."

She blinked. "Really? You'd rather talk about silly stuff than actual relevant-?"

"Yes. Think of something else."

She was honestly surprised. Retrospectively, she had handed him an opportunity to give her another lecture about how her body and soul belonged to Aizen on a silver platter, but he was passing it up to talk about...trivial nonsense with her. If she ever found time to get over the absolute weirdness of it all, she was certain she'd be...well, honored.

"Okay then. What do you do for fun?"

His blank stare made her giggle. "Never mind, stupid question. I meant, what do you do in your spare time?"

"I sleep," he said simply.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Is that surprising?"

"Well, yes! I never figured Ulquiorra-san to be..." she snorted, "A couch potato."

He frowned. "I am not a vegetable."

She laughed at his seriousness. "It's a figure of speech. But anyway, I just thought maybe you'd be the kind of person who would read a lot or something."

"I am. Research was part of my duties as an Espada."

"So you never read anything just because you wanted to?"

"No. Everything I did besides sleep had an ulterior purpose."

Her gaze softened. She found that so sad - she bet there were plenty of things he could read about that would interest him. Things like philosophy, and things about friendship and love. Aizen had been such an invasive part of his life, keeping him from so many things. She vowed to introduce him to some of her favorite books and poems. "Well, why did you sleep then? Why not just walk around, see the sights?"

He gave her a look that suggested the answer should be obvious. "There are no sights in Hueco Mundo. Sleep was good enough."

"Ohh, right," Orihime hummed. He was right - Hueco Mundo was a bleak place, and Las Noches had been grand and all, but just about as depressing as a fortress could get. Come to think of it, sleep was probably the only recreational activity in that place that didn't involve violence of some sort.

She hesitated to ask her next question. Maybe bringing up the subject so soon was stupid of her, but she found herself too curious to resist. "So do you dream?"

The look he gave her told her that he knew exactly what she was worried about. He considered her for a moment before answering. "Yes."

Despite the danger, she couldn't stop her eyes from twinkling with excitement. "That's so cool! I dream all the time! One Saturday I had nothing planned for the whole day, so I just slept all the way past lunch time because my dreams were so exciting! I kept waking up and deciding to roll over and go back to sleep because they were more entertaining than anything else going on."

"That sounds unhealthy.

She scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "Ehehehe, yeah, I guess it is! And it totally messed up my sleep schedule for that week so I never did it again, but still, it was fun."

"I take it you would be more willing to speak about those dreams," he said, eyes narrowing. She bit her lip and looked away. She had known he would bring it up.

"I don't want to talk about my nightmare with you, Ulquiorra-san. I'm trying to keep it...separate from real life, and talking with you about nicer things helps a lot."

"I find your reticence on this matter very annoying," he stated bluntly.

She huffed. "Oh come on. I'm having fun, don't spoil it. If it will make you feel better, I can tell you about my other dreams." While he didn't look particularly eager, she didn't let that discourage her. Ulquiorra never looked eager about anything. "Okay, one time, I had a dream where I just knew Godzilla was coming," she paused and gave him a questioning look, "You know who Godzilla is, right?"

He stared silently.

"It's fine, I'll tell you. He's a big, evil dinosaur that's always wrecking Tokyo. Not a real one, one from a movie. Although he might exist somewhere under the ocean, we can't say for sure. But anyway, I knew he was coming because I could hear his footsteps - which were really loud and made the floor shake and everything, because he's so huge - and people screaming and whatnot. So I ran around trying to convince all my friends that we had to leave, but for some reason none of them believed me! They kept telling me I was dreaming!"

"You were dreaming."

"No, I know, but I mean in the dream I didn't know that. So I started panicking and trying to pack everybody's bags but they kept getting annoyed with me and telling me to leave. Weird, huh?"

It was honestly a rhetorical question, but Ulquiorra answered her nonetheless. "No. It sounds like a subconscious manifestation of your fear of not being taken seriously by your friends."

Her mouth popped open, once again blown away by the way his mind worked so quickly and logically. "You think? I thought it just meant that I shouldn't have watched Godzilla right before bed."

His hand lifted slightly to give his version of a shrug. "If it were not Godzilla, it would have been some other disaster your friends didn't take seriously enough."

She lifted a finger to her lips, eyes wide with remembrance. "You know, I _have_ had similar dreams about aliens. I tried to get everyone to leave before they invaded but they kept telling me they wanted to finish their breakfast and I was like 'are you people crazy, they're coming for us! _Your cereal can wait!_'."

As an unusually bright flash of light lit up his face, she was almost certain she saw his lips quirk up into the beginning of a smirk. Her heart raced at the sight, hardly able to believe that she might have actually amused him with her tale. It was like winning a prize. "Woman," he said, and even though his voice sounded no different, she swore his eyes looked a little less cold, "If that ever happens in the future, I encourage you to leave your friends to their demise and save yourself."

She playfully swatted the Espada's shoulder, feeling a real urge to burst into giggles at their banter. "Ulquiorra-san! I would never leave my friends to get abducted by aliens!"

"So you would allow yourself to come to harm in the wake of their stupidity?"

"Well..." she bit her lip with grin, "Yes."

He examined his nails airily. "Your instincts of self-preservation are still sorely-lacking."

"I'm still alive aren't I? And I did get abducted by an alien."

He frowned. "I am not an alien."

"Ulquiorra-san, we call people from other _countries_ 'aliens'. You're from another _dimension_." She crossed her arms, "_Trust me_, you're an alien." He didn't argue and she grinned in triumph. "So anyway, have you ever had a weird dream like that?"

It took a few seconds, but at her question she felt all the warmth that had built between them slowly turn cold. His eyes grew dark and distant, as if he were recalling a far away memory. She wished she could un-ask the question, appalled that she had spoiled his good mood. It occurred to her suddenly that an Espada wouldn't have much to dream about other than death and despair.

"No..." he answered eventually, glaring at something she couldn't see.

She toyed with the hem of her shirt. "I'm sorry," she truly was, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Of course, someone like you could not possibly understand," he murmured, as if he hadn't heard her at all. "I can't imagine you have ever found peace in emptiness."

Confused, but also sensitive to his change in tone, she shook her head. "Well, no," she said softly, "I always found the idea of emptiness to be terrifying."

He turned away from her with a heavy exhale from his nose, almost seeming disappointed. "Naturally."

She felt the urge to reach out to him, unable to comprehend why his mood had shifted. He looked so...so sad and longing. All she wanted was to make him understand. If this night had proven to her anything, it was that Ulquiorra had a heart. It was a brittle, fledgling thing gasping for air, but he had one. Only the heart would make him sit on the couch with her in the middle of the night, just talking, with nothing to gain. And she wanted to teach him about it, to show him how the world could open up with life and possibilities and happiness if he let it. She doubted that he had ever felt joy or excitement, and didn't it make sense that he would hold emotions in such low regard if he had never felt any of the good ones? Looking at his tired, worn expression, she became awash with compassion. Relying on impulse, she grabbed his hand and pressed her palm against his, lacing their fingers together. She watched as his eyes snapped back to hers, slightly widened with surprise, before darting down to study where they interlocked. It was a sombre sight, a secret symbolic gesture that only those who had been on the top of that dome in Hueco Mundo would understand.

She parted her lips, wanting to say something to comfort him, but found herself unable to think of a single thing that would have the desired affect. Ulquiorra would not appreciate platitudes or reassurances, and if she brought up the heart it would only turn into another debate. He was quick to challenge her when she tried to get through to him verbally, and in any case she didn't want to lecture him to death on feelings and connections, that would never accomplish anything. He bought into the philosophy of 'seeing is believing' way too hard for that to work. She would have to show him.

So she chose to remain silent and instead leaned down to place a gentle, chaste kiss on his fingers. It was an innocent gesture, one meant only to convey the pureness of her feelings without words. His hand twitched almost imperceptibly at the contact and she smiled against his skin, having hoped to feel some sort of response. She was reminded for a moment of Grimmjow's warning, and of the disgusting thoughts she had pondered back on the jet. She realized she couldn't do it - she couldn't manipulate him. If she truly held some part of Ulquiorra's affection, however unlikely that seemed to her, she would be despicable and unforgivable if she used that against him. She wanted to nurture that part of him - the part that held the capacity for kindness or mercy.

Perhaps that was why she was there in the first place. Maybe some greater cosmic force wanted her to help him. Maybe her nightmare had been nothing more than a way to bring them together for a night. It was a fanciful thought, but one that gave her hope nonetheless.

It might have been presumptuous to think it, but she couldn't help but feel like he needed her.

She sat back up, raising her eyes to his soulfully. He watched her with a look that she could only describe as apathetic, but she wasn't put off. She thought there might be an intensity there that told her he was not so unaffected as he appeared. She would have to learn to read him and read him well if she was to have any hope of getting close to him. One slip and he could be pulling her hair again.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly, unable to resist the urge to know.

"That you make no sense," he said, before turning away and staring at the television, which was currently playing a shampoo commercial. "Will you be able to sleep now?"

She nodded, feeling disappointed but also oddly at peace. She gave his hand a squeeze.

"Thank you Ulquiorra-san. This...this was really nice." She leaned forward, trying but failing to capture his gaze, "I mean it."

He nodded vaguely and pulled his hand from hers, getting to his feet. If it were any one else and they walked away from her without a word, she might have been sad or offended. But she watched him leave with a warmth in her belly. She had a good feeling about the next day.

* * *

A/N: A big thanks to **whycantifindafriknusername **for beta-ing this for me! And I would love to hear from you guys :)


	12. The Espada will Rise

A/N: Helloo! Long time no see guys. Sorry about the wait - my life has been uncharacteristically exciting these past few months. My best friend moved in with me and I'm in my final year of school...so you can see why the combination of those two things might result in chaos. Trying to balance schoolwork with drinking copious amounts of wine and binge-watching TV shows has proven to be a trial, but one that I'm kind of enjoying.

To be honest, this was not how I wanted this chapter to go originally - it was supposed to be much longer and the characters were supposed to do more stuff, but I just didn't have the enthusiasm or the inspiration. I'm hoping that by posting this and hearing from you guys, I can get back on my creative horse :)

Also - this chapter was originally dedicated to _**ShiroKuro**__** OokamiRyu**_, but I was a douche-bag and I forgot to put the dedication on the chapter when I posted it. Sorry Shiro! This one was for you xD_**  
**_

**Chapter 12: The Espada will Rise:**

* * *

Grimmjow woke when the unmistakeable aroma of fear slid into the room. Like a thief in the night, it crept up to his bed and set his every nerve on edge. It was more than just a scent – it was a feeling in the air, crawling over his skin and raising the hairs on his arms and neck. If he had stuck out his tongue, he could have tasted it.

He opened his eyes when he heard the shifting of cloth and creak of a mattress. He had come to rest on his side, facing Ulquiorra's bed, and he watched as the fourth sat up and stared silently through the darkness at the door.

The only light in the room came from the dull glow of the city shining through a gap in the curtains, and the little red numbers on their alarm clocks. But even in his gigai, his senses were superior, and he could clearly make out the frown above Ulquiorra's luminous eyes. Messy hair and the back of his wrinkled shirt riding up his spine…it was almost surreal to see the fourth looking so rumpled, and for a moment it sickened him – the forced intimacy. He had fallen asleep with his back to the other bed, ignoring the instincts telling him to _never turn his back on that man, _if only so he could pretend that he wasn't being forced to let his guard down and be vulnerable around someone he had always privately considered an enemy. Evidently he had turned over in his sleep, and so he was able to observe in silence. The freak was so preoccupied he didn't even seem to realise he was being watched, or if he did he didn't show it.

Grimmjow could sense it acutely, the fear. It was coming from the princess's room – he could even feel her reiatsu fluctuating if he focused. Then, the sound of the door across the hall being opened, and loud clumsy footsteps making their way downstairs.

He was unashamedly interested in Ulquiorra's reaction. The fourth sat frozen for a long moment, and Grimmjow watched as his fingers flexed against the sheets, watched his nostrils flare ever so slightly as he scented the air, saw his throat bob as he swallowed. He knew the signs when he saw them – and really, with such a delectable temptation, who could blame him? A pure soul's fear was like an irresistible call to a hollow, even in their human shells. Even he felt the stirring of hunger, though it did not manifest itself in his stomach. It was more a need – a craving to find her and rip her apart and _feast, _on her flesh, on her spirit. It was the most base and hideous of instincts, and Grimmjow was able to effortlessly brush it aside. He wouldn't – _couldn't_ – hurt the princess. Even if she smelled delicious.

Ulquiorra though…

Grimmjow had never thought he'd need to worry about the fourth's ability to control himself, but as he rose from the bed and slinked silently towards the door with the unmistakeably gait of a predator, he felt a niggling of concern. If the idiot girl was trying to escape, he didn't know what Ulquiorra might permit himself to do.

Hell, he hadn't even acknowledged him. He had been under observation for well over a minute and Ulquiorra had appeared completely unaware, so intent was he on the human. He closed his eyes as the door shut behind the fourth, trying to put it from his mind. It was none of his concern what Ulquiorra did with the girl, and he certainly wouldn't allow himself to give a crap.

Still, what felt like hours later when Ulquiorra returned, he had been unable to find sleep, having been too intent on sensing the pair of them, waiting for the shit to hit the fan.

So with more annoyance than he would've liked to reveal, he sat up and glared.

"Well you took your sweet-ass time."

Ulquiorra shut the door behind him and spared the sixth a bland look before crossing over to his bed. "I wasn't aware I was being waited upon," he said, sitting down on the edge, and leaning forward with a frown. With what might have sounded like concern, if concern had bored itself into a stupor and died, Ulquiorra said, "Why aren't you resting? You're still weak."

Grimmjow almost flinched. He felt rage swirl in his belly – he was not some baby bird that the bastard had picked up and brought home. He was _Grimmjow-fucking-Jaggerjaques, _and if there were three things he hated, they were being told what to do, being pitied, and being in the same room as Ulquiorra.

"Fuck off, _mom_," he spat, running a hand through his already tousled locks, trying to calm his agitation. Couldn't let the asshole get to him. "Jesus, how the fuck could I sleep when I was waiting for you to fucking pounce on her?"

Whatever weird, fucked up parody of consideration had been in his eyes disappeared and Ulquiorra's face tightened in displeasure. "I see," he said, in a voice like a coffin being slammed shut in the distance, "Perhaps had you minded your own business, you wouldn't be in this predicament."

Grimmjow leaned back against the headboard, staring through half-mast eyes. A smirk completely devoid of humour curled over his features. Bring up the princess and the bastard suddenly had fangs to bear. "Yeah?" he drawled lazily, "Well if you hadn't looked hungry enough to kill, I might've been able to. When was the last time you had a fresh soul anyway? Before Aizen, I'd bet. And never one like her."

Ulquiorra blinked, his expression once again becoming like that of a drowned wooden plank. He leaned back. "I am not discussing this with you. If you are uninclined to credit me with a modicum of control, so be it." He flicked back his blankets with an air of finality and slid his legs beneath them.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. Typical fancy-mouthed bastard tryna shut him with vague-ass shit. He had been kept awake too damn long for bullshit deflections. "Whatever. What did you two do for so long anyway?"

Ulquiorra paused in the process of lying down, propped up on his elbow. Grimmjow tilted his head in interest as the fourth seemed to consider answering, green eyes staring blankly at nothing. "We…" he actually hesitated, "Talked."

"Talked," Grimmjow echoed. He shook his head with a dry chuckle, trying to imagine a dull as dirt fucker like Ulquiorra actually sitting through a late-night chat. "You've got to be shitting me. I'm surprised you got through five minutes without throttling her. That bitch says the _stupidest_ shit, I swear…"

Ulquiorra said nothing in response, but his gaze seemed to drift off as if in remembrance. Grimmjow scoffed. "How the hell did that even happen?"

"She was insistent."

Grimmjow wasn't sure why he was surprised. "Of fucking course she was. Idiot girl must have a death wish – if you don't kill her, the boredom of actually having to having to listen to you will." The fourth ignored him, appearing almost distracted, and he frowned, thinking of another issue he had meant to confront him on. "Which reminds me – speaking of idiots. Why the fuck did you bring Neliel along?"

Ulquiorra turned his head, apparently blinking back to reality, and arched a brow slightly in interest. "Because I didn't particularly feel like killing her. Why?"

Grimmjow slammed a fist down on the mattress. "Seriously? You didn't '_particularly_ _feel'_ like killing her? So on a whim you brought her with?"

"I fail to see the problem. Once she recovers, she will be a powerful ally, of which we have few. Why should you resent that?"

Grimmjow looked away. Why indeed. Somehow though…he just knew that the former third was going to complicate his life. Ulquiorra spoke carefully, "I am inquiring honestly - I confess my ignorance. Is there something…going on between you?"

Grimmjow's lip curled and he scowled at the fourth. What were they, a couple of teenage girls having a fucking gab-session in their frilly nighties? (And oh how he hated the fact that he even knew the term 'gab-session'). "Fuck no. She just has some serious boundary issues."

Thankfully, Ulquiorra looked annoyed, dispelling the weird moment. "That's it? A woman wants to touch you and you sit here sulking? Spare me your juvenile complaints. There is more at stake here than your convenience."

Having nothing to say in response, Grimmjow was left to glare hatefully as the fourth lay down and turned his back, effectively ending the conversation.

He lowered himself down, thoughts spinning around his head and making him long for the days when his only concerns were to kill or be killed. When he didn't have to worry himself with anything but survival and strength.

_There was more at stake than his convenience…_

He couldn't help but wonder what.

* * *

Yamamoto Genryuusei had very rarely taken up calligraphy in his spare time, but in the few days after the defeat of Aizen and the loss of his left arm he had seemed more drawn to the calming art than ever before. He was often to be found in an opened room, with perfect viewing of the well-tended, private gardens outside, practicing the careful brushstrokes in solitude.

And outside on one such day, perched atop a conveniently situated bough of a large sakura tree, sat a black cat. She had arrived just in time to watch a disturbing scene unfold.

Yoruichi's ears pricked forward as Kurotsuchi Mayuri, whose reiatsu had been felt throughout Seireitei as he stormed through it like a deranged rhinoceros, threw aside the shoji door with absolutely no respect for the ancient man seated behind his desk inside. Practically foaming at the mouth, eyes wide and insane with fury, he stalked into the room, shoving off the attendants that tried to stop him.

"Kurotsuchi-taichou - !"

"This is most unacceptable behaviour - "

"You don't even have an appointment!"

He swatted the scandalized attendants and guards away, proving them no match for his strength. "Out of my way, fools!"

Behind him, stepping demurely over the groaning Shinigami he had left on the floor, his lieutenant entered the room, giving Yamamoto Genryusai the low, reverent bow that her father had failed to offer.

"My apologies, Yamamoto-soutaichou. Mayuri-sama is..." her eyes stared pointedly at where her fuming father stood pacing back and forth, muttering frantically under his breath. "In a state of distress."

The Captain Commander remained seated behind his desk, and slowly lowered the ink brush in his right hand. Nothing but the opening of his eyes from their usual state as partial slits gave away that he was annoyed at Kurotsuchi's unscrupulous interruption.

"Kurotsuchi-taichou," he demanded in his deep, gravelly voice, "You had best have a good reason for disturbing the peace on such a fine day."

Yoruichi guessed that the relatively lenient reprimand suggested that the Captain-Commander was just as unsettled as she was to see Mayuri in such a state. The man was insane, certainly, but he was no babbling lunatic. Something truly horrendous must have happened.

The half-crazed captain froze as if just remembering himself and where he was, slowly turning to face the ancient Shinigami. His golden eyes darted around feverishly, and his tongue slipped out to wet his thin lips, a nervous gesture rather than one designed to intimidate.

"They're gone!" he suddenly barked, eyes wide with hatred and rage and fear. "All of them!"

Yoruichi felt the fur over her back slowly begin to rise, her tail swishing anxiously. Yamamoto stood up slowly, resting his weathered hand against his desk. Yoruichi knew it was pointless to try and read his wrinkly old face, but she was certain he was beginning to feel as alarmed as she. "Explain yourself, Kurotsuchi Mayuri!"

Mayuri began to pace once more, although he kept his tone even and understandable. His painted hands gestured wildly as he explained, "The bodies, soutaichou, all of my samples! They were in my lab, under highest security, and when I entered this morning they were gone." He stopped abruptly, clenching his fists. Yoruichi felt herself beginning to form a low hiss, her teeth baring as her form reacted to her emotional state. She immediately pulled back her animal instincts, watching the Captain of Squad twelve similarly try to compose himself. "If this were any other matter, I would have taken apart each and every one of my men to ensure that the traitor was not among them," he growled, and Yoruichi knew he wasn't exaggerating. "But even _I_ understand the severity of this situation goes beyond my own pride as a Captain."

He shuddered, a hideous and disturbing thing, all of his muscles and tendons in sight visibly flexing. "The others must be summoned," he said, managing to obtain a deceptively calm tone. He levelled the Captain-Commander with a look of grim finality. "I fear it will not be long before the Espada rise again."

* * *

In Karakura, just as midnight eased into the early hours of the morning, two teenagers were illuminated by the stars, the moon, and a nearby street lamp. The street they were on would be bustling with activity in approximately eight hours, as the corner deli opened up for the day and the video store across from them tempted customers with the latest in horror, action and romance. Unlike the usual delinquents that could be found roaming about at that time, the two were performing a job more serious than spray-painting profanities.

Tatsuki smoothed her palm over the last of her posters depicting Orihime's bright, smiling face, watching the liquid glue that seeped out from the sides with a small sigh. She was exhausted after an hour performing the depressing task of plastering her best friend's face all over town. They had stayed up late into the evening bringing Keigo, Mizuiro and Chizuru up to speed, realizing that it wouldn't be an option to keep them in the dark any longer. After that long and unpleasant meeting, they had all dispersed with a small bucket of glue and a stack of posters. Ishida had wisely suggested that they get the job done before the general population woke up, to avoid unnecessary confrontation.

Not to mention the questions that might be asked if anyone caught sight of the colourful helmet on her head. She had had time to take a look at it in a mirror, and she had loudly cursed Urahara and his apparent lack of subtlety and taste.

The words 'Have You Seen This Girl?' seemed to be burned to the back of her eyelids, the bold print letters so stark against the white behind it. She dropped her bucket of glue and turned around, leaning tiredly against the wall of the corner deli. She watched Ishida finishing with another poster on a lamppost on the opposite side of the street. Even though she had told him quite firmly that she could take care of herself and that they would cover more ground split up, he had still insisted on going with her, stating that it wasn't 'in his nature' to leave a girl alone in the dark.

She had scoffed at him then, but the way his eyes kept roaming around, as if searching for danger, made her realize she was glad for his company. Muggers and rapists were, to her dismay, probably the least of his worries. The others had also gone in pairs, which made her feel a bit better.

As he turned to cross over to her, she found herself sliding down to take a seat on the pavement, too emotionally and physically exhausted to worry about whatever filth might be caked over the sidewalk.

"That was my last one," he said as he reached her, looking about as tired as she felt. She wandered when he had last had a proper night's sleep.

"Same," she told him, before realizing that he probably already knew that. She sighed, wanting nothing more than to crawl back home and into bed.

He looked about to say something, but just then his phone rang, a small square of light shining through his pocket. He retrieved the buzzing device and flipped the phone open, frowning down at the screen.

"Who is it?" Tatsuki whispered. Ishida put the phone to his ear, giving her a worried look.

"Urahara-san," he said, both as an answer and as a greeting. She strained to hear Urahara's muffled voice, watching as Ishida's frown deepened, before his eyes widened in shock. Her heart began to race at the sight, a million horrible thoughts crossing her mind. She got to her feet as Ishida exclaimed, "What?! When did-? No, never mind, I'm on my way," he paused for a moment, listening, before giving a nod that Urahara would never see, "I will."

He pulled the phone away from his ear, giving her a look that made her stomach fill with dread.

"What is it?" she asked, "Is it Orihime? Is something wrong?"

Ishida shook his head and began dialling a number, "No. I don't know. Apparently Yoruichi-san is back." He muttered. He turned away before he could answer her puzzled frown as whoever he had called picked up. "Sado-kun. I just heard from Urahara-san. I think we might have a big problem."

* * *

While the residents of Karakura resigned themselves to another sleepless night, across the world, Orihime was holding her breath in silent anticipation.

It was early morning, and the apartment was filled with the smell of fried bacon and freshly brewed coffee. She stood in the kitchen, surrounded by an explosion of used dishes, half chopped ingredients and general chaos. She had found herself an adorable apron and a hairnet and had taken it upon herself to cook the house breakfast (she had nearly fainted at the sight of so many different ingredients to work with).

As it was, she leaned on the kitchen counter and watched with rapt attention as Ulquiorra was about to take his first bite.

She almost groaned aloud when his fork halted and he raised his eyes to glare at her. "Is there a reason you are watching me so carefully?"

She deflated. Maybe he was one of those people who liked to eat alone. Then something else occurred to her as she saw the suspicion in his eyes and she suddenly became energetic, waving her hands in denial. "I didn't poison it if that's what you're thinking - I would never do that!"

The fork slowly lowered back to his plate. "I was already aware of that."

"Oh," she said, deflating once more. "Okay, good. I just wanted to know if you liked it or not."

Ulquiorra seemed to absorb this information for a moment. Then he inhaled and leaned forward, a blank look on his face. "And you hoped to learn of my opinion by... watching my expression."

Orihime blinked. Once. Twice. Then she erupted into giggles. "Oh my gosh, you're totally right! What was I thinking! Wait..." she gaped at him. Had he really just-? "Ulquiorra-san, did you just make a joke?"

He closed his eyes. "Don't be absurd."

But Orihime continued to giggle nonetheless. "You did!"

He looked down at his food, completely ignoring her mirth. "Woman, I will simply tell you my opinion if you ask for it."

Her laughter faded away and she nodded seriously. "Okay. Please continue."

And so the first bite disappeared. Orihime forced herself to sit still as he chewed and swallowed, but was unable to stop the desperate, "And?" that leapt from her the moment his adams apple had settled.

"Edible," he intoned. Orihime puffed out her cheeks. Trust him to miss the point entirely.

"I know _that_. I want to know how if you like it."

He seemed about to answer before he stiffened and his eyes slid to the side. He turned his head ever so slightly towards the stairs behind him. "Is there a particular reason you're skulking about, Grimmjow?"

Above them, Grimmjow cursed under his breath at having been caught eavesdropping and made his way down the stairs. Orihime and Ulquiorra came into view, and the sight of the latter with his back turned seemed almost too darn tempting. It would be so easy to just pull back his leg and kick the fucker right through the-

"Good morning, Grimmjow-san!" the princess greeted all too happily, leaning around the table to smile at him. She was looking even odder than usual, in a flowery apron and hairnet. "Good thing you came down, I'm just about done with your breakfast!"

Grimmjow scowled, reluctantly taking a seat beside Ulquiorra, who sat eating in silence. Orihime bustled around the destruction as if she knew exactly what she was doing and her enthusiasm had him slightly on edge. She had an aura similar to Szayel Aporro's before he began digging around someone's insides. He glanced over at the fourth's plate and grimaced. "What the fuck is that?"

Orihime looked over her shoulder and pouted. "It's a fruity bacon omelette with syrup." She glanced helplessly at Ulquiorra upon seeing his disgusted expression, "Ulquiorra-san likes it, right?"

Ulquiorra slowly looked up, taking in Orihime's expectant look and Grimmjow's disbelieving one. He watched the girl carefully for a moment, taking in her wide, eager eyes, before his gaze flickered to his fellow Espada. He then returned passively to his meal. "Yes." he finally answered, and Orihime let out a whoop and punched the air, looking quite ridiculous in her getup.

"Hah! See, you'll love it Grimmjow-san!"

He scowled. "Like I would take his word for it! He'd probably say anything to make sure he doesn't end up being the only idiot stuck eating that shit."

"You give me too much credit, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra murmured before taking another elegant bite, "Woman, let him make his own food if he is uninterested in what you have made for him. I will have his share."

Orihime clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling. Grimmjow's rejection slid off of her easily at the idea that Ulquiorra might want seconds. Grimmjow slammed his fist down on the table, glaring up at her with bared teeth. "Like hell he will! Give me the damn omelette!"

Orihime hastened to scoop her creation from the pan and into a plate for him, before pouring a generous helping of warm syrup over it and setting it down in front of him. Resentfully, he cut into it as if tearing into an enemy and speared a gooey piece. As it hit his taste buds, he froze, trying to take in the combination of sweetness and meat. There was a moment where he hinged, unable to decide whether it was good or terrible.

Despite being aware that Ulquiorra was continuing to eat in peaceful silence beside him, he couldn't help but feel like there was some sort of challenge being issued. So, with a grunt of reluctant approval, he continued to shovel the strange breakfast down. Orihime's delight was palpable, and she returned to pottering around the stove with a grin on her face.

"Ulquiorra-san says we can go out and see the city today," she said, sounding way too enthusiastic in his opinion. He shot Ulquiorra a dark look, wondering what the hell he was thinking. Three Espada and the human princess hitting the streets for a day of fun and frivolity? Not fucking likely. "It's going to be so much fun! I've always wanted to see the Golden Gate Bridge! Well, I mean, we already saw it, but it would be pretty cool to get closer to it. Although, I heard a lot of people have killed themselves jumping off – " she gasped, "I wonder if it's haunted!"

Ulquiorra became aware of his scrutiny as he finished his meal and looked up with cool neutrality, giving away nothing. Grimmjow's lip curled and he turned away as the fourth began dabbing around his mouth with a napkin.

Always the civilised little prick.

He became aware that the girl was still prattling on and rubbed circles around his temple with one hand, moodily making a mess of his plate with the other. A whole day of this shit. He could always stay behind…

"- and the aquarium and _oh-my-gosh_ – Alcatraz! You just know that place has _got_ to be haunted!"

But then he'd miss out on whatever inevitable disaster was bound to appear. As sucky as it was, he'd rather be annoyed than bored. _Ugh_. Ulquiorra was watching the princess with rapt interest now, as if he actually had an internal filter that made all her nonsense understandable. As if he were fascinated by her every retarded word. Or maybe he wasn't even listening – maybe he was just watching her being so lively and nauseatingly _human_. He'd fall on Pantera before allowing himself to make eyes like that at _anyone_.

As if the direction of his thoughts had summoned her, he felt two arms encircle him from behind, catching him completely off guard. He almost choked on his food, and it took considerable effort on his part not to leap from his seat, rip his assailant off his person, and carve them open with his fork.

As it was, he merely stiffened, going completely still as warm breath brushed over his neck. A moment later, Neliel's chin was resting on his shoulder, her hands splayed over his chest. Orihime turned around to retrieve Ulquiorra's dish and blinked in surprise at the sight of her roommate draping herself shamelessly and intimately over a stony-faced Grimmjow.

"Oh – good morning, Nel-san!"

He felt her softness press against his back as she drew even closer, felt her grip tighten on him boldly. "Morning everyone," she said cheerfully, so close he almost flinched. "Sorry Nel is up so late – I was completely wiped." His eyes widened as she added under her breath, in a completely different tone that was only for his ears, "And not for the preferred reasons…"

Orihime nodded, oblivious to Nel's lustful whisper, and decided that if Ulquiorra looked unfazed, then there was no reason to be concerned. Grimmjow felt a growl building in his chest, but just as he was about to bark at the woman to get her hands_ off, _she untangled herself from him and withdrew, her fingers trailing across his abdomen in a manner that made his pants suddenly feel uncomfortably tight.

He dropped his fork onto his mostly empty plate with a loud clatter and rose abruptly from his chair. He grabbed her retreating form by the upper arm in a crushing grip and yanked her towards him, giving her his most aggressive glare. "Stay the fuck away from me."

She tilted her head, eyes flashing playfully. She carelessly twirled a teal lock of hair between her fingers with her free arm. "Will you promise to punish me if I don't?"

He bared his teeth in a silent snarl and tossed her arm away. Nel moved back gracefully to watch him storm past her and up the stairs. Orihime watched the altercation with wide, worried eyes while Ulquiorra apathetically sipped his coffee.

Nel turned and took Grimmjow's vacated seat. She picked up his fork and held it up before her for inspection. A satisfied smirk fell across her lips as she took in the warped and bent metal – a victim of Grimmjow's ire.

Ulquiorra stared broodingly into his coffee. "Do you intend to spend the whole day goading him?"

Nel shrugged. "Is that a problem?"

"Perhaps not. But then…the last man you pursued split open your skull."

Nel's eyes flashed darkly, a vehement protest forming on her tongue, but Ulquiorra was already rising from his seat. "We leave in an hour. Do not dawdle."

* * *

A/N: Ooooh _drama!_ \- Ulquiorra, you bi-hatch!

Forgive me for any typos that may rear their butt-ugly faces. And please review, my lovelies!


	13. Paint by Numbers

Oh my Glob, one of my guest reviewers, Tasha-Cynika mentioned drawing this into a doujinshi…

Yes, YES! A million times yes. I encourage any and all fanfare, including fanart, fanvids or even fanfics (meta, right?). So long as Ikigai is credited, let the fandom go forth and multiply.

Also, I recently made an Ulquihime amv filled with scenes that I have a feeling you guys will love (I masked the crap out of it) so check my profile for a link to that :)

**Chapter 13: Paint by Number**

* * *

Nel could feel herself returning. Like an ocean dropped into a puddle, her memories had raged around within her soul, stirring up everything her child-self had ever simplistically felt or believed. The woman she had been was incomprehensible to her at first, as memories of not only acting differently, but _thinking_ differently mercilessly assaulted her without a care for her need to adjust.

It was impossible to describe the disturbed state of being she had been in since awakening. Memories of her secret affection for Grimmjow had been artlessly seized by her child-self's impulsive nature. She had always been physically affectionate, but the manner in which she had been disregarding his distaste for her was certainly not behaviour she felt the old Neliel would have approved. Ulquiorra's cutting words had brought her back to reality, made her realize how Nnoitora had resented and hated her so much for her…attentions, as they were. That wasn't something she ever wanted Grimmjow to feel for her.

And Ulquiorra…

Her child-self had been unequivocally terrified and in awe of the fourth Espada. She remembered most vividly the fear she had felt upon seeing him draw his blade and direct it at here. All alone, without her brothers or Ichigo to protect her, she had been certain that death was coming for her. And she had handled it with all the grace of a toddler, sobbing in horror and despair. The gratitude she had felt for him for sparing her life, while still quite real, was slowly beginning to lose its juvenility. As she began to settle into her skin, to feel like the Neliel of old, she was losing the worshipful tenor she had innocently given to the seemingly all-powerful spectre that had allowed her to live.

And now she began to truly wonder at his motives.

Even when she had ranked above him, Neliel had always felt that Ulquiorra had a rather ominous presence. She had been friendly with him, as she was with everyone, but had received nothing but dead, lifeless stares for her efforts. They had never truly mixed circles, speaking only a few words to one another over the years. During that time he had revealed himself to be unerringly loyal to Aizen and he had endeared himself to her at first for being one of the few who didn't actively seek out bloodshed.

Of course, upon witnessing what his victims looked like when he finally did bring himself to violence, her opinion of him shifted from '_unsociable, but peaceful_' to a simple warning of '_danger, do not underestimate_'. Still, she had never worried that he would challenge her for her rank. He seemed somehow…above the concept of advancement, as if those who paid it heed where kids playing a game that was beneath him. Like a child that saw through a parent's ploy to distract his siblings, he wore the rank of fourth as if simply indulging Aizen's whims, with no true opinion on the matter either way. He had been the fourth Espada when she had disappeared, and he had remained the fourth Espada since. And during all that time, she had never understood _why_ he was there.

She had followed Aizen out of gratitude. He had given her a chance to evolve past the need for fighting and death, given her an opportunity to enjoy the simple wonders of life that no hollow in Hueco Mundo had ever dreamed they might feel again. For that gift, she had devoted herself to him completely.

But _he_ had never once shown any signs of passion. He had no great love of fighting, didn't seem to care about gaining power, was disinterested in mingling and she had never spotted him doing anything more interesting than drinking tea and staring a hole in the wall. And yet he held the reputation of Aizen's most loyal. That he followed Aizen was something she had taken for granted back then, because _that was just what Ulquiorra did_. If she had been asked back then to imagine what Ulquiorra might do _without_ Aizen, she would have undoubtedly drawn a complete blank.

Which was why it was so interesting to watch him with Orihime.

Ulquiorra had never allowed people to touch him. Those who wanted to were scarce, but there had been a few incidents in her time of female arrancar seeking to gain more power and status by seducing the male Espada. Nel had seen the remains of one such arrancar. She and Grimmjow had stumbled upon the corpse together. The heavy, sickening reiatsu around the body would have tipped them off already, but it was the sight of the hole mercilessly torn into her chest, revealing a gaping, empty chasm where her heart should have been that confirmed Ulquiorra's involvement.

While Nel had been disconcerted by the sight, Grimmjow's only reaction had been to comment that he was surprised the dead female had been interesting enough for Ulquiorra to kill in such a manner.

So glancing over her shoulder as they moved through the lobby to catch Orihime lightly tugging on his coat arm was cause enough for her to begin covertly observing. Ulquiorra glanced down at the human, who wore a tiny, worried frown, before allowing himself to be pulled aside.

_Ulquiorra_ allowed a little human girl to _pull him aside_.

Among the Arrancar, such a thing simply wasn't done. If a conversation was intended to be polite, it was hosted with at least several feet of distance between the two parties. If it involved one of the more uncouth specimens then perhaps less distance and more fists meeting nearby surfaces – and a dangerous, leering intent. To initiate touch with an Arrancar that wasn't explicitly a close comrade was at the very best a threat, and at worst an outright challenge. While the Hogyouku had managed to pull together whatever scraps of humanity they had left, they had still come from a world where every encounter meant danger, every touch a fight for survival

For one of them to allow their movements to be guided, however minimally, by someone else indicated a level of trust that was as rare as it was hazardous. It was almost…submissive – in the same way as a dog baring its belly to another dog.

But by every indication, Ulquiorra was as likely to be submissive as he was to throw on tap dancing shoes and perform a rousing jazz number. She watched him lean down slightly, saying something to the human girl in a low murmur she couldn't catch. Orihime chewed her bottom lip, wringing her hands together. She was obviously anxious about something, but Nel was baffled by the thought that her nervousness had absolutely nothing to do with the Espada in question.

And then, as if it were a completely normal thing to do, Orihime leaned up on the tip of her toes, cupped her hand over Ulquiorra's ear and began whispering something.

Nel's eyes widened against her will, unaware that she had come to a standstill beside a large potted fern at the building's entrance. And with a jolt of shock, she met _his_ gaze over Orihime's shoulder. She couldn't read him at all, couldn't even begin to fathom what he was thinking in that moment. He gave no indication that he cared she was watching him being…she didn't even know, couldn't even guess at his state of mind. And maybe that was why, when Orihime retreated back with a look of a puppy that had done something bad on the carpet, his eyes slithered away from hers to focus completely on the girl in front of him, as if her opinion on the matter were as inconsequential as the opinion of an ant on a boot. Orihime rocked on her heels, peering up at him through long lashes and Nel turned away from the exchange, feeling a cold shiver run down her spine.

She found herself face to face with Grimmjow's chest. Looking up she saw him glaring past her, narrowed eyes on the pair behind them.

"That man is…" she trailed off, a deep sense of unease in the pit of her stomach. Grimmjow glanced down at her, an expression completely devoid of humour on his face. As if he knew exactly what questions were running through her mind, he said;

"Don't bother trying to figure him out. He'll show his true colours eventually."

She blinked. It didn't seem like Grimmjow to be patient for anything. "And then what?"

Murder flashed through his eyes. "And then I kill him and make his little princess watch."

She frowned up at him. "Such violence doesn't interest me," she said shortly and moved past him without a backwards glance. She may have loved him, but it was for his gentler qualities. His loyalty to his Fraccion, now passed, and honour, when she got the opportunity to witness it. She wouldn't let her child-self control her actions any longer. Neliel's libido with Nel's impulsiveness would make her nothing short of a sex-crazed lunatic.

Her fists clenched. No. She was Neliel Tu Odelschwanck.

* * *

"Ulquiorra-san can drive?" Orihime exclaimed as the man who had pulled up with a silver car bowed and stepped aside for Ulquiorra to take the driver's seat. He looked up at her through the open door, where she had unknowingly placed her hand and ever so slightly raised an eyebrow, as if to mock her obviously rhetorical question. It was so _weird_ seeing him like that – with his shoes on the pedals, one hand resting on the wheel. None of her friends knew how to drive yet, and since her brother's death she had used public transport to travel long distances.

The others didn't seem to share her surprise. Grimmjow stalked over and sullenly claimed the back seat furthest away from Ulquiorra, while Nel slid in beside him. Orihime blinked at the empty passenger seat in the front, unaware in her wonder that her hand was preventing Ulquiorra from closing his door.

"Move." Ulquiorra's stern voice jolted her into action and after briefly meeting his frowning face she scurried around the car with red cheeks. For a moment she nervously eyed the empty front seat before deciding that it would be totally mean to leave Ulquiorra all alone in the front like a taxi driver. She found herself giggling at the thought as she pulled open the door and sat down, imagining him in a flat cap, listening to tourists with a grumpy frown.

"I guess it would help that you speak so many languages…" she said vaguely, unaware of the three Espada eyeing her with mixed irritation and confusion.

She blinked back to reality as they pulled off into the street and turned to Ulquiorra with inquisitive excitement. "So where are we going?"

Green eyes flashed in her direction briefly before focusing back on the road. After it became clear that he intended to ignore her question, she rolled her eyes and stifled a smile. "You could just say if you wanted it to be a surprise."

Earlier, she had had a mini panic attack at the realization that she had no money and would therefore be spending _his_, something which was near impossible for her to do, even with Tatsuki-chan and her other close friends. Inoue Orihime was nobody's charity case. Still, after Ulquiorra had explained to her in no uncertain terms that short of buying a small country, there was little she could do to jeopardize their budget, she had reluctantly calmed down. Besides, she reminded herself, it was better that Ulquiorra spent his money on fun stuff like candy and shoes than on weapons or other dastardly gadgets that might assist him against the Soul Society. She grinned – Inoue Orihime, draining the enemy's resources one ice-cream-sundae at a time. She was the hero Soul Society deserved, but not the one it needed.

_A fat version of Orihime sits surrounded by piles of empty dishes wearing a black spandex suit and cape. Her rapidly expanding waist-line struggles against her yellow utility belt as she stuffs mouthful after mouthful of delicious, creamy ice-cream into her mouth. In the background, Ulquiorra nervously counts the remaining bills in his wallet._

She licked her lips dreamily before twisting in her seat and blinking at Nel and Grimmjow in the back seat. "Do you guys know how to drive too?"

She wasn't sure, but she could swear the temperature in the vehicle dropped. Nel averted her eyes while Grimmjow smirked unpleasantly. "Yeah, we know."

Orihime, feeling as if she was missing something, furrowed her brow and asked, "Really? How did you learn? Did someone teach you?"

Grimmjow snickered at that, though there was something dark in his eyes that said he was less than amused. "You could say that."

Orihime looked to Ulquiorra, but he was either deep in thought or steadfastly ignoring her. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, glancing between the two in the back seat. "Am I missing something?"

When Grimmjow did nothing more than sneer nastily and turn to glare out the window, Orihime looked to Nel. The older woman sighed and closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them again she looked more serious and sombre than Orihime had ever seen her.

"When a Hollow devours a soul, part of that soul's knowledge and experience becomes a part of us. That's why, even though some of the oldest of us were born thousands of years ago, so long as we continue to devour and evolve…we never fall out of date."

Orihime felt her skin crawl. "Oh." So that was why Ulquiorra was so comfortable around technology despite living in a desert wasteland. How many people had he killed to gain that knowledge?

She twisted back into her seat and stared down at the clasped hands in her lap. Somehow it had been so frightfully easy to forget that these people – these creatures – were not human. Were not her friends.

As Ulquiorra shifted gears, she quietly grabbed his hand, giving it a quick, reaffirming squeeze. She reminded herself of her conviction the previous night.

It wasn't their fault.

She thought of her brother and how easily he could have become just like them without Kurosaki-kun's intervention.

It wasn't their fault.

She thought of the pain and tragedy that might have led to their hollowfication_. _

It wasn't their fault.

She glanced up at Ulquiorra, absently tracing her thumb over his knuckle. The pale, empty expanse of his cheekbone almost made her miss his tear tracks and the solemn humanity they had brought to his features.

She thought with a sudden inhale about how he surely died crying, his tears burnt forever into his flesh.

His hand pulled out of her grip as he raised it to turn the steering wheel, and she focused her gaze on the road, unaware of the stubborn bend in her jaw.

It wasn't his fault.

* * *

"Oh my God! _Ulquiorra-san!_"

Orihime was nothing more than a shrieking blur of red hair and blue fabric as she sped past the ticket cubicle and up the grassy hill of the fairground, her sundress billowing in the wind as one of her sandals went flying. Orihime spun around with a joyous laugh, taking in the distant sight of a ferris-wheel and what seemed like hundreds of colourful striped gazebo tents holding displays of food, toys, jewellery and clothing.

"Uh…she's not really supposed to be in there before you pay."

Behind her, three Espada collectively turned their heads to the suddenly nervous looking ticket salesman.

"Four entrance and four-hundred fair," Ulquiorra said shortly, handing the man a card with a dextrous flick of his wrist. The ticket salesman, whose nametag designated him as 'Stephen', rolled backwards on his wheelie-chair, wishing that his tiny ticket-dispensing office was bigger so that he could put more distance between himself and the creepy pale man and crazy looking blue haired guy.

Meanwhile, Orihime was filled with excitement and the sort of touched gratitude that almost brought tears to her eyes. With one last gleeful look around, she spun on her heel and went charging back down the hill carrying her shoes in one hand, bare feet pounding over the grass. She paid no heed to the long line of people behind her companions who appreciatively watched her heaving bosom. She only had eyes for one person.

Grimmjow sidestepped her with an irritated scowl. Her target had barely turned to face her after entering his pin into the card machine held tentatively by the ticket salesman before her body connected firmly with his, eliciting a soft grunt. Large, warm breasts pressed shamelessly against his chest and bright hair clouded his vision. She paid no attention to the fact that Ulquiorra stood stiff as a board in her embrace. She wanted to express her gratitude in as heartfelt a way as possible and she knew words would probably mean nothing to him. Still, she squealed out a thanks that was muffled by his coat.

She was completely oblivious to the lust-filled eyes of several young men in the vicinity, whose gaze were drawn like bears to honey at the sight of her pert ass and perfectly arched back as she leaned into a man who clearly had no idea what to do with a total babe like her. Despite it being the middle of autumn, the sky was clear and the sun was hot, and they had never been more grateful for the good weather. Her pale blue sundress rode up her thighs when she leaned on her tip toes to press an affectionate kiss on the pale idiot's cheek before falling back and beaming up at him.

"Ulquiorra-san, this is absolutely perfect! We are going to have so much fun!"

He didn't voice any agreement, but when he handed her the admittance wristband and several long strings of tickets, she could swear his expression softened.

* * *

Orihime's first step had naturally been to use her keen sense of smell and expert tracking skills to follow the trail of abandoned, half-eaten cones and melted dairy through the crowd until she emerged victorious at the nearest ice-cream stand. After successfully concocting a giant triple scoop of peanut-butter-blueberry-fudge, she managed, to her unprecedented delight, to coax Ulquiorra into getting himself a small chocolate-mint cone.

"I can't tell you how much I've been day-dreaming about ice-cream lately," she said between licks, watching him with sparkling eyes. They stood separate from the throng of people moving between stalls, in the entrance of a large tent that housed tables and chairs for people to stop and take stock of their purchases and small children. Grimmjow and Nel had fallen behind at some point, and Orihime had suggested that they wait for them to catch up.

As she idly looked up at her dark haired companion, she found time slowing and her eyes being helplessly drawn in to the sight of his tongue darting out to drag over the glistening surface of his cone, leaving tiny grooves over its pale green exterior before digging in slightly at the end. A small dollop collected over the tip before disappearing back between his lips. All the while his eyes absentmindedly scanned the crowd, his usual blank expression in place.

And as something in the pit of her stomach began to flutter, she suddenly became horribly aware of her unattractively sticky hands. Her eyes darted around wildly until she spotted the reflective surface of a nearby trash can and she sidled over discreetly, leaning over until she could make out her face.

Her messy, chocolate covered face.

She groaned helplessly. How could Ulquiorra look so cool and suave eating an ice-cream and she looked like an overexcited five year old who probably needed to be on Adderall.

"Is there a problem?"

She '_eeped_' at the sound of Ulquiorra's voice just behind her and turned around, making sure to hang her head as far as possible, guiltily clutching her ice-cream like a bloody murder weapon. She stared forlornly at his legs, hoping he wouldn't be able to see the mess she had made of her face. Her cheeks began to burn as she felt his gaze on the top of her head.

"Ehehe…I guess…I'm sort of messy sometimes."

She had never been embarrassed by it until she had seen how…how…

What was the word Tatsuki-chan used?_ 'Sexy'?  
_

Suddenly she heard the sharp, unfamiliar sound of Ulquiorra inhaling and a finger – a noticeably _un-sticky_ finger – curled under her jaw and his thumb forced her head to turn to the side. "Look," he murmured in a strangely restrained voice.

Grimmjow and Nel were making their way through the crowd towards them, both clutching ice-creams of their own. While Nel's was a modest single-scoop, just like Ulquiorra's, Orihime caught sight of the quadruple-decker monstrosity that Grimmjow was devouring as if it had offended his ancestors. And then she saw what Ulquiorra was trying to show her.

Grimmjow was absolutely _covered_ in sticky, melted ice-cream. If Orihime looked like a five year old, then Grimmjow was practically a toddler. She burst into laughter at the sight, and found that his narrow-eyed glare only made him look funnier. Beside him, Nel ducked her head, a quiet smile gracing her lips.

"What's so funny, princess?" he growled as the four of them reconvened. She tried to pull her face together, her lips and cheeks quivering painfully, but at the sight of the chocolatey fleck he had somehow managed to get on his eyebrow she collapsed into fits of giggles again.

Doubled up laughing, Orihime was unaware of Ulquiorra carefully lifting the lid off the rubbish bin with his free hand and holding it up behind her, giving Grimmjow an impeccable view of his ridiculous face. "That's a good look for you, Jaggerjaques," he said, tone perfectly even. Grimmjow scowled, but the effect was somewhat ruined.

"Don't think I can't beat your ass into the ground while I'm holding this, Schiffer," he replied, giving his ice-cream, which he apparently had no intention of relinquishing, a menacing shake. "And _you_," he snarled, flicking Orihime quite painfully on the forehead and thus staining it in the process. She yelped and raised a hand to rub at her aching temple. He narrowed his eyes down at her, quite obviously taking in her not-quite-as-messy-but-still-pretty-bad face. "Don't think I won't knock that thing into the trash," he gestured to her cone.

Orihime gasped, turning to the side and pulling the wilted ice-cream back into her arms as if it were her own flesh and blood. "You wouldn't!"

He cocked a menacing brow at her as if to say '_you wanna bet, princess?_' before turning and stalking off to a nearby hotdog stand. The three of them watched him shove his way past a group of teenagers in line before confiscating a large stack of napkins. The young woman selling the hotdogs seemed to want to protest for a moment, before the familiar expression of barely contained laughter crossed her face and she allowed Grimmjow to return unbothered. He split the stack of napkins with Orihime.

"Here," he grunted, shoving them into her shoulder. She accepted them with a small grin and began cleaning herself off.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, pointing excitedly "I know what we should do next!"

* * *

The face-painting stand conveniently came with a bucket of hot spongy water which the amused elderly man insisted that Orihime and Grimmjow used to clean themselves up properly before they started. Grimmjow had absolutely zero intention of letting the man anywhere near his face, but he took advantage of the offer to get cleaned up nonetheless.

"Well young lady?" the painter asked with a smile as Orihime excitedly seated herself. "What will it be? A beautiful princess, perhaps?"

Behind him, his hands still immersed in soapy water, Grimmjow scoffed.

Orihime shook her head, smiling wildly. "Actually," she began, her excitement making her English come through more clearly than ever, "I was thinking about batman this morning." She twisted in her chair to grin up at the fourth Espada. "Right, Ulquiorra-san? Get it? Batman!" She mimed the flapping of wings with her arms. At his unenthused look her face fell. "Cause, you know…" she gave one last, sad little flap, "You had bat wings…"

With a shrug she turned back in her seat to face the confused painter. "Well, anyway. I'd like to be batman please."

Several minutes later, a thoroughly pleased Orihime left with a spring in her step, the large bat silhouette on her face clashing alarmingly with her pretty blue dress. The Espada had, unsurprisingly, refused outright to be touched by the painter.

"Oh come on guys! What if I bought some paint and did you guys instead?"

Nel had agreed, Grimmjow had grumbled and Ulquiorra had remained silent, but Orihime had taken that collectively as permission. So now clutching a plastic packet filled with paint and brushes, she made a beeline for the bench-tent and claimed a table.

Nel sat patiently as Orihime painstakingly painted on the pink line across her face that was her insignia. Once Grimmjow saw what she was doing, he was surprisingly easier to convince.

"If you get that shit in my eyes, I'll shove that brush down your throat," he warned her. But he was allowing her to paint him, and that was all that mattered to her.

"You know, your tattoos are really pretty, Grimmjow-san," Orihime said absently as she finished, sitting back and admiring her work. Grimmjow's eyes snapped open and glared at her as if searching for mockery. Finding none, he scoffed and lifted a hand to touch the drying paint. Orihime slapped it away. "No touching!"

"Now you, Ulquiorra-san!" she hummed. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and got to his feet. Orihime blinked after him. "Where are you going?"

"To take a piss, you nosy bitch!"

"Oh." Orihime shrugged and moved around the table until she was seated right next to Ulquiorra. She grinned as she mentally imagined painting on his tattoos and black lips.

"I can't believe Grimmjow actually let me paint him!" she chattered, digging in the packet to bring out the black and emerald green paint she had chosen, unaware that Nel had slinked off in Grimmjow's direction. Ulquiorra watched her prepare her materials.

"Once you had branded Neliel with her Espada insignia, you made it impossible for him to refuse."

"Really?" she shrugged. "That's weird. What about you?"

"I see no harm in it and it obviously pleases you. Though why, I cannot begin to imagine."

She smiled shyly and dipped her brush into the green, tracing it gently down his cheek. "Well I think the headline here is that you'll let me dress you up in paint because it makes me happy. What if I decided to paint a pretty butterfly on you?"

"Then I would be forced to kill you…and Grimmjow."

He said it without a trace of humour, but she found herself giggling nonetheless. "Ixnay on the butter-flay – got it. I still think it would have been hilarious to see you as batman." She began her work on his other cheek.

"Oh, I'm sure it's more amusing on you…"

She pulled back with a mock affronted look. "Hey! Are you making fun of me?"

His blank face didn't even blink as he answered, "You clearly have no idea how ridiculous you look."

Doing her best not to laugh, she narrowed her eyes and jabbed the paint brush at him in as threatening a manner as possible, sending flecks of green paint through the air. "Watch it, buddy, or you'll be the prettiest princess at the fair." She leaned forward and finished off the tip of his last tear track mark, a tiny smirk on her face when he remained silent.

"And now the finishing touch!" she swirled the brush in the tiny bowl of water until the green had been washed away and then dipped the tip into the black paint. Her mouth parted in concentration as she leaned forward and ever so gently began swiping the paint over his top lip, watching in fascination as his skin bent and moulded against her brush. She had never realised just how nice Ulquiorra's lips were. His upper lip was stern and thin while the lower was more full and soft. Together with the shape of his face they were almost…pouty.

She started when she realized that her brush had been hovering unused in the air for several moments while she continued staring, and pulled back with a nervous laugh. "All done! You look like you again, other than your helmet, obviously." Her hand reached out, seemingly without her permission, and stroked through the hair on the left side of his head. "Wow! What are you putting in your _hair_? It's like, way softer than mine! I stroked a baby duck once, and I swear it wasn't this soft."

His feathery hair might as well have been a steel trap for all that she could bring her fingers to move. She was staring at his lips again and suddenly all she could think of was his tongue swiping over mint chocolate chip ice-cream. She could feel her skin heating up and her limbs begin to tremble and a weird…tingle. Her eyes darted up to meet his gaze and she chewed frantically on her lower lip. He was watching her like he always did but there was something different in the atmosphere. Something completely unfamiliar to her. She needed to escape it. Where were Nel and Grimmjow?

Something occurred to her then and she pulled away from his hair with a thoughtful frown. "Why did Nel-san get her memories back?"

If he was surprised by the random direction of her thoughts, he didn't show it. He titled his head and regarded her carefully. Orihime could sense the weird, unidentified atmosphere shift as Ulquiorra entered into what she almost affectionately thought of as 'lecture-mode'.

"You're asking the wrong question. The right question is; 'why did she lose them in the first place?'"

She shook her head. "I don't understand. Why?"

He raised his hand and drew a long line through the air over his temple. "When Nnoitora cleaved through her mask and into her skull, he created a wound that leaks reiatsu at a speed faster than she can produce it." He flattened his palm over his forehead. "When she stepped into the gigai, a temporary patch was placed over the leak. She was able to build up enough reiatsu to regain her memories."

She stared in wonder as he lowered his hand back into his pocket. Sometimes she wondered if, besides the whole 'heart and emotions' issue, Ulquiorra just knew _everything_. "So if she ever left the gigai?"

He closed his eyes to give his version of a shrug. "She might be able to hold her form for some time, depending on the amount of reiatsu she has managed to build up. But it is likely that any form of combat would result in her losing her adult body and reverting to her child-like state."

Orihime straightened up and raised her hands as if the obvious had just occurred to her – and it kind of had. "Well then the answer is simple! I just have to heal Nel-san's head, and she'll be good as new." She lifted her arm and grabbed her bicep with a victorious smile.

Ulquiorra's eyes snapped open, and he was giving her a look that was less than encouraging. "Have you ever once actually stopped to consider the nature of your abilities?"

She deflated at the scathing tone of his voice, feeling almost hurt. "Um…yes?"

His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "No. You must never mistake yourself for a healer. You're not. Your ability is to reject an event. What do you think the repercussions of rejecting a head injury might be?"

She faltered. She had always, _always_ identified her ability with healing. To hear what she had considered an obvious fact so harshly contradicted was completely unsettling. "I…I don't know."

Ulquiorra sighed and leaned forward, a single finger lifting up to press firmly between her wide, troubled eyes. "Then _think_. This is an injury that caused amnesia and is directly linked to the brain. I repeat, you are not a healer. You will not heal it, you will reject the very fact that it ever existed. Given the close proximity to the brain, are you aware of what damage you may cause then?"

She gasped as the realization hit her. "I could…I could make her forget about everything that happened since she was attacked!"

He nodded. "Yes. It would be different if the wound was fresh. At most the repercussions would then only apply to the few minutes or hours leading up to her injury. But this is a wound that is decades old. You could reject all of her memories from the time that the injury occurred." He leaned back, and the finger at her temple lowered to stroke softly against the hairpins tucked into the collar of her dress. He stared at the seemingly innocent barrettes with heavy eyes. "Your ability is not one to be used lightly."

* * *

It had taken Grimmjow long enough to find the damn bathroom facilities in the hellzone that was a human fairground, but he was at least pleased that the pisspots were in an actual building with plumbing as opposed to a god-awful-smelling, hole-in-the-ground, outside-cubicle-crapper. He rolled his eyes at the sight of his painted insignia in the mirror over the sinks, wondering if anything on earth could have possessed a single person other than the princess to get close enough to do something so stupid.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, he scowled at the sight of Nel perched on a table as he exited the men's room. "What?" he grunted at her, daring her to deny the fact that she had obviously been waiting for him.

"I wanted to ask you a favour…away from Ulquiorra."

That got his attention. He raised a brow and leaned against the wall beside the door, a threatening smirk crawling over his face. "Well now. Plotting something even though dear Ulquiorra-sama saved your worthless life?"

He had half expected that to get a reaction, but she did nothing more than blink slowly and give him a tired look, as if telling him to stop wasting her time. He ran his tongue over a canine. "So the little brat finally stopped pulling your strings, huh? Well good for you, but you're an idiot if you think I have any interest in teaming up with you against that bastard."

Ulquiorra was _his_ prey. If Neliel had finally grown wise to the danger of her merciful captor, then that was her issue to deal with.

But she actually let out a soft peal of laughter. Her eyes softened on him and she smiled that infuriatingly condescending smile of hers – the one that seemed to be trying to tell him to relax, that everything would be fine. He found himself baring his teeth instinctively and she raised her hands in a placating gesture.

"Relax, number six. I have no intention of hurting your friend."

His lips parted in shock. She was insane. She was actually, genuinely insane. Who in their right fucking mind would _ever_ try to suggest that he thought of Ulquiorra as _anything_ other than a target to destroy and devour -

And since when did she call him 'number six'?

She interrupted his thoughts when she nodded pointedly at Pantera, sheathed at his side. "I've been trying to get Gamuza to manifest…" Gamuza…that was her zanpakutou, once upon a time, "But it's been so long since I've fought I'm having difficulty. I wanted to ask for your help, training me."

He scowled, although the direction of the conversation had put him slightly at ease. "And why the hell didn't you want to involve Ulquiorra? For that matter, why didn't you just ask for his help?"

She shrugged. "There's no dastardly reason. I just really can't imagine that he'd help me and I didn't want him to influence your decision in any way."

Somehow he suspected that wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't like he could honestly argue against the merits of keeping Ulquiorra the hell out of their business. Their conversation was forced to pause when a gaggle of young woman emerged from the female's bathroom across the hall. Grimmjow received more than one appreciative glance and whispered remark, but he ignored the pests, narrowed eyes focused entirely on the former third. She seemed…troubled.

"Why the sudden interest in getting stronger if you're not planning on attacking Ulquiorra?"

She frowned at him, as if unsure if he was joking. "You…you did notice didn't you?"

He felt his muscles tense. "Notice _what?_"

Her eyes widened. "Grimmjow-kun...we're being followed."

* * *

A/N: Didn't I say that Nel would get better? No? Well she is. I actually had to split this chapter because it was getting too long. The good news is that chapter 14 is already started! Oh, and just an F-to-theY-I, you guys are the best readers ever. I can't wait to hear from you all on this one :)


	14. Not-Shinigami and Birds

A/N: I know - I'm the worst. I lost my mojo again. But here's the next chapter - which was supposed to further the plot a lot more, but the characters turned out to be in a waffling kind of mood. They just couldn't be persuaded.

I wanted to thank everyone for their awesome reviews (which I will do personally, at some point) and also recommend a new story I started reading that looks really promising. It's called _**6**_, by _**gwpe**_. It's a Grimmjow/OC Ulquihime fic with an OC that I actually really like and it's done by a talented writer. Give it a looksy and drop a review if you're feeling generous. All good fledgling stories should be given lots of love and care.

I don't use a beta - I get waaaay to antsy to update. So please excuse any typos or errors and whatnot, and feel free to point them out if you spot them. Also excuse the horrible title of this chapter. My muse ran out of steam.

* * *

**Not-Shinigami and Birds:**

When the two of them reached Ulquiorra and the human girl, his finger was on her chest staring quite intently at her cleavage, or something in the general area, and Orihime was looking half unsettled, half turned on. Nel couldn't really blame the girl for that reaction.

Grimmjow barreled through the few people separating them without a single care for appearances and headed straight for Ulquiorra like a charging bull. By the time she caught up, Ulquiorra had already been seized by the scruff of his neck and pulled out of his seat.

He stared calmly into Grimmjow's enraged face, unfazed by his crazed eyes. "_You_." Grimmjow growled through clenched teeth, spittle flying. "You knew about him this whole. Damn. _Time_. Why the _fuck_ are we standing out here like sitting ducks?"

Orihime snapped out of her shock and leapt to her feet, tugging desperately on Grimmjow's jacket. "G-Grimmjow-san, there's people all around us! Please, you're making a scene!"

The two Espada ignored her completely, but Ulquiorra's long, pale fingers seized Grimmjow's wrist. Judging by the barely noticeable twitch on the taller man's face, quite a bit of pressure was applied to pry him off. "I'm surprised, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said lowly, a very dangerous look in his eye, "To think you would remain oblivious to it for this long…"

Grimmjow pulled back his fist, "I'll fucking kill you, you little shit – " Orihime's mouth parted in a silent scream.

"Hey!" Nel said in a hushed whisper, appearing at Grimmjow's side and grabbing his wrist mid-flight. "Do you seriously think this is the best way to deal with this situation?"

Grimmjow jerked away from her, but made no further move to attack the fourth. His eyes darted around to take in the curious looks and muttered frowns they were receiving from the surrounding people and lingered on Orihime's pleading grey eyes. He sent Ulquiorra a hate-filled glare, ducked his head and lowered his voice. "You gonna explain yourself or what?"

Nel looked between the two with a worried frown. For some reason she was half expecting Ulquiorra to tell him to blow his demanded explanation out his ass. Maybe it was something about how unnervingly well Orihime had mimicked his insignia – his tear-tracks and black upper lip appeared to actually be shining through his gigai from his true form. It was as if the girl had traced them on, and there was something eerie and unsettling about the sight. But he surprised her. After giving Grimmjow a measured stare, he turned commanding green eyes to Orihime. "Stay," he ordered, as if speaking to an excitable puppy that required a certain force of authority.

Orihime's mouth popped open in affront and she bounced nervously on her heels. "Hey, wait, what's going on? Ulquiorra-san, where are you - ?" Her hand darted out when he turned away, fully intent to grab his coat and make him stay and explain himself. But at the last second she seemed to think better of it, her hand lingering uselessly in the air as he disappeared into the crowd. Grimmjow followed hot on his heels, leaving a murderous aura in his wake.

Nel sighed, running a hand through her hair, absently frowning when her fingers slid over the space her mask had been. Those two would be causing trouble, she just knew it. Her only solace was a strong suspicion that neither of them would willingly allow any harm to come to the other.

Spotting the forlorn and abandoned expression on Orihime's face, Nel felt a stab of pity in her gut. The poor child had so quickly become attached to that man. It was unsettling, but more than worthy of her sympathy. When the human turned on her with wide, concerned eyes, it was all she could do not to guiltily avert her gaze.

"Where are they going?" Orihime inquired, and Nel was momentarily taken aback by the quiet strength in her voice. She had somehow expected the girl to be less composed. She gave a tight smile and stepped past her to sink down onto the bench. Orihime followed, seating herself next to the former third. She stared expectantly and Nel resigned herself.

"They've gone to confront someone."

Orihime's eyes widened, and Nel grimaced internally at the familiar sight of someone trying their best not to panic. "Who? Did Soul Society find us?"

Nel shook her head, doing her best to ignore the answering sigh of relief. "No…" she said, "Not the Soul Society. But similar enough."

Orihime chewed her lip, quietly awaiting a further explanation.

"The Soul Society's jurisdiction is Japan. What we're dealing with here aren't Shinigami. They're...different"

Orihime looked puzzled. "Different?"

"Yes. They guard this place and many others from Hueco Mundo and they guide lost souls into the afterlife, just like the Shinigami. The one in charge of this city was obviously alerted to our presence and he's been tailing us all morning." And Grimmjow had been blissfully ignorant until she had blabbed about it.

Orihime digested this new information for a while. "Is he going to fight them?"

Nel considered it. "He shouldn't…When I was still the third Espada, Aizen-sama had just come to an agreement with them. He took advantage of a very destabilized time in human history to make that deal."

"What time?"

Nel hesitated. It wasn't a pretty story, nor was it a time she particularly enjoyed remembering. "Well…I don't know how much humans know of their history, but were you taught the events of 1945?"

Orihime frowned for a long moment before realization dawned. "You mean…?"

Nel nodded somberly. "Yes. The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki caused an almost irreparable tear in the relationship between the Soul Society and the others. Aizen-sama exploited the situation."

Orihime seemed to be listening in rapt fascination. It was so strange, Nel realized, to be listened to with respect again. "But it was a human war. So why…?"

Nel shook her head, remembering the horrors of that time more clearly than ever. "It became so much more than that. Never in history had so much death occurred so suddenly in such a confined area. Nearly every single soul turned Hollow within the space of a day. It was all the Soul Society could do to keep them from spreading across Japan and devouring everything in their path. Thousands of Shinigami were lost trying to contain the Hollow, and when Soul Society requested aid from the ones responsible, they were ruthlessly denied."

Orihime sighed sadly. "That's terrible. Why didn't they help?"

Nel shrugged. "It could be that they were afraid. I was there to witness it firsthand. Even the Espada knew well enough to stay away from that place."

Orihime appeared to think fast. "So they've gone to go talk to the...American Shinigami then?"

"I don't know. But regardless, I know Ulquiorra won't want to provoke a fight. The chances are that they don't yet know what happened to Aizen-sama. So long as that remains the case, our truce should still stand."

Orihime nodded and Nel allowed herself to close her eyes. It was so difficult, keeping the girl at arms length. It was imperative that she not become attached, and yet Orihime radiated a presence so inviting that Nel felt herself ever more at risk of being drawn in. She smelled like fresh air and sunshine, and everything that Nel wasn't. But Ulquiorra had already staked his claim, and she couldn't risk being at odds with him over the girl.

"You seem different today. Tired."

Nel's eyes snapped open in surprise and she gave the girl a sidelong glance. Behind her silly facepaint, Orihime was watching her with solemn eyes that seemed to see right through her. And it was as if...as if what she saw made her sad.

"Do I?" she responded with an empty smile. "I suppose I am…This state of being is exhausting."

"What state of being?" Orihime inquired gently. Nel clenched her jaw and closed her eyes again. Why did she have to use that tone of voice?

"Constantly watching my every word and action…" she finally murmured, "Trying to remember what I would have done or said back then…I feel like I'm always one step away from making a complete fool of myself." She laughed hollowly.

Orihime frowned and scooted closer, laying a gentle hand on the older woman's shoulder. "Why are you trying so hard?" she asked, giving her a soft squeeze, "You shouldn't have to constantly watch yourself around your friends. That's totally depressing!"

Nel eyed the girl with a wry smile. Had she ever been that innocent? "My…friends, huh?"

Orihime nodded firmly. "Yes. Ulquiorra-san and Grimmjow-san. If anyone tries to hurt you, I'm sure they'd protect you! You have each others backs, right?"

Nel sighed quietly. Surely prolonged exposure to to those two should have hardened her world view? At least a little? "I hope so."

She was taken aback Orihime narrowed her eyes fiercely. "I know so," the girl declared with a stubborn glare, "So stop worrying so much! Ul-Ulquiorra-san..." Nel's eyebrows rose when the girl stumbled over his name,"Well...he seems to think that everyone besides him is an idiot anyway, so it's not like you have to worry about his opinion. And Grimmjow-san may act like a cave-man, but he carried you all the way from Hueco Mundo to here and he made sure that your hair didn't get dragged through hobo-pee while he did it. That's friendship!" The human leaned forward with an earnest frown. "And Nel-san…you need to trust your friends to be there for you. There's no way that they'd abandon you just because you're going through a tough time. You need to rely on them while you figure out who you are. Okay?" Orihime offered her a bright, reassuring smile.

Nel found herself blinking rapidly and swallowed down the lump in her throat. _'Ulquiorra...I might just have to fight you for her after all.'_

* * *

Grimmjow glared at the white figure in the distance, itching to reach for Pantera. He and Ulquiorra were standing on the rooftop of a moderately tall building – a hospital, he registered vaguely. To their left, the Ferris-wheel and the fairground where they had left the girls was visible. Below them, humans continued their day to day habit of making as much noise as possible. He could hear traffic, children's screams and laughter on the wind.

He sat crouched atop the large water tower that reared from the roof while his companion rested with his back to the concrete parapet beneath him. Ulquiorra had folded his arms and lazily closed his eyes, as if they weren't up there to scout out what he considered to be a big fucking problem.

As if he sensed his thoughts, Ulquiorra muttered from below him, "Your bloodlust is becoming tangible. Try to contain yourself." The sound traveled effortlessly over the wind, up to his better-than-human ears. Grimmjow scowled down at his head.

"What the fuck are we even doing right now?" he demanded with a flash of fang and glowering eyes.

"We are observing," Ulquiorra replied quietly.

"Really? Because it looks to me like you're priming to take a nap."

He heard Ulquiorra sigh before he opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. He stared pointedly at where the white spec of their enemy was perched on a tall telephone pole in the distance. Apparently satisfied with that token display of effort, Ulquiorra turned back and closed his eyes once more.

Having had enough, Grimmjow growled in frustration and leapt off his perch, landing heavily in front of the pale man. Twin green orbs of apathy slid open to greet him as he straightened up.

"Enough of this," he said with deadly calm, "Why did you bring me here? Why did you bring any of us here?" He glared at the painted tear tracks on his companion's face. "I know it wasn't just so you could play dress-up with Orihime."

Ulquiorra blinked coldly. "Must I explain everything to you as if you were a child? Can you not stop and think for yourself? I had a vague suspicion that you were not a complete idiot."

The rage that Grimmjow expected to feel failed to make an appearance at Ulquiorra's icy words. Perhaps it was the veiled complement, which, coming from Ulquiorra, was enough to be creepy. Or perhaps it was the implication that he already had all the information he needed. He narrowed his eyes over Ulquiorra's shoulder, watching their enemy.

Watching their enemy watch them. And suddenly it was obvious.

"Tche. You wanted to be surrounded by human meat-shields. Make sure you could get a good look at him out in the open, knowing full-well that he wouldn't be able to risk attacking us. And you got to trick the girl into thinking you're kind and generous."

Ulquiorra quirked a single brow. "You assume I'm manipulating her," he stated more than asked.

Grimmjow made a face. "Are you kidding me? I know you're playing her like a fucking banjo."

Ulquiorra didn't even bother with a denial. "She makes it too easy," he said, narrowing his eyes as if annoyed with the woman in question. "But I have my reasons for indulging her, and they are none of your concern for now. You wanted to be involved in my dealings with the enemy. This is it."

"This?" Grimmjow repeated dubiously. He spread his arms with a scowl. "We're not doing anything."

"We're doing more than enough. Aizen-sama's arrangements should still stand, and by exposing ourselves without attacking we are testing this. Right now he is deciding whether or not to confront us or follow the agreement and ignore our presence."

Something clicked then and Grimmjow's eyes widened. "You've been putting on a show for him!"

"I have allowed him to witness us engaging in harmless activities, yes."

His hands curled into fists. "Why didn't you just tell me what we were doing in the first place?"

Ulquiorra gave him _that_ look – the one that said so plainly that he considered him a non-factor. Unimportant. Useless. "I didn't see the point."

Grimmjow cracked. His fist shot out and connected solidly and satisfyingly with Ulquiorra's face. The fourth's head snapped back, and his arms unfolded to brace him against the parapet, stopping him from tumbling back off the roof. Grimmjow bared his teeth as Ulquiorra straightened and raised a hand to his lip, the corner of which had split. He stared indifferently at the blood on his fingers before raising his eyes to meet Grimmjow's furious stare.

"I don't see anyone else on this roof with you, you piece of shit," Grimmjow barked before Ulquiorra could retaliate. "We're the only ones _left_. Neliel is as good as useless for now, and you and I both know the human would run if she got the chance. That," he pointed savagely to the angel, "Is just _one_ of our enemies. You expect me to be some sort of team with you when you didn't even bother telling me that we could be _attacked_ at any moment? You didn't see the 'point'? How the _fuck_ am I supposed to - " he cut off abruptly and Ulquiorra watched in silence as he turned and brutally kicked the wall next to them with a loud curse, leaving deep, radial cracks in the parapet.

"I am sorry."

Grimmjow froze. Stiffly, he turned his head to stare at the fourth. "What?" Ulquiorra's expression didn't exactly scream 'contrition'. The fourth tilted his head back and stared at the sky with a moody frown.

"It was not my intention to deceive you…I will consider your position more carefully from now on."

Grimmjow scoffed, even while inwardly reeling. He had never heard Ulquiorra apologize to anyone besides Aizen, and even then it had seemed empty and without any real import. This…this was different. And it made him feel even more murdery than usual. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away. "Whatever. So we're really just gonna stand here until that guy makes a move?"

"You would rather we attack and bring down the wrath of Heaven?"

"I'd rather we kill his ass and magically get away with it," Grimmjow muttered petulantly. Ulquiorra almost seemed to smirk.

"Yes, wouldn't that be nice…"

Grimmjow closed his eyes and pictured it for a moment. A grin curled over his lips. "…Yeah."

* * *

Grimmjow scowled at the sight that met them when he and Ulquiorra found their two female companions. They were surrounded by books - trust Neliel to track down the only damn tent in the area that wasn't trying to push junk or junk food. Less acceptable than the teetering piles of dog-eared paperbacks was the veritable crowd of men encircling the pair, their intentions no less clear than if they had all dropped their pants and begun pissing on the women's legs.

The princess was running her mouth about something or other, completely oblivious to the many pairs of eyes drinking in her curves. She had that crazed look that made him certain she was trying to explain how the power of rainbows could cure colds or something equally insane. The men – those that had the fortitude to follow her babbling train of thought – seemed caught between confusion and fascination. At least she had washed off her freaky black face-paint and looked less like a complete lunatic.

Behind Orihime, Nel was stroking the spine of a book that looked older than she was and smiling politely at the little boys trying to chat her up. Grimmjow sneered, feeling a territorial flair of annoyance that he instantly, and with great prejudice, began to squash. He looked to see Ulquiorra's reaction, and almost rolled his eyes as the sight of the fourth casually flipping through a magazine he had picked up.

"Hey, dipshit," he drawled, slouching over to Ulquiorra's side, "Why the heck are you just standing there letting those lowlifes drool all over the princess? I thought you wanted her for…whatever twisted shit it is you get off on." He loomed over Ulquiorra's shoulder, waiting to spot the slightest sign of weakness.

Ulquiorra spared the group a glance before arching an eyebrow up at him, not at all intimidated at having his personal space invaded by six feet of rippling muscle and malicious intent. "Assuming your crude assumptions have any merit, in what way do they obligate me to involve myself in that..." he gestured to them vaguely with flick of his hand, eyes dismissively back on his magazine, "Human nonsense."

Grimmjow smirked. Ulquiorra was almost tolerable when he hated humans. "Whatever. I assumed you wanted her for yourself. Maybe I'll have a taste then…" he dragged his tongue over a bared canine. He had absolutely zero intention of going near the crazy girl, but antagonizing Ulquiorra was more than worth the bluff.

Unfortunately, Ulquiorra wasn't taking the bait. He scoffed, snapping the magazine shut and placing back on the shelf. "What would you expect of me, Grimmjow? Should I bang on my chest and drag her home by her hair?"

"I would pay to see that."

Ulquiorra gave him a look that clearly said to stop saying stupid things. "I am not threatened by those trash. They are keeping her entertained and she is too naïve to recognize their motives in any case."

"Ulquiorra-san! Grimmjow-san!"

Orihime's scandalously exuberant cries cut off Grimmjow's next witty retort and both men turned to see her excitedly pushing through her circle of admirers. She approached them with a wide, relieved smile, leaving behind a sullen group that took one look at Grimmjow and immediately reassessed their odds of getting the girl. The openly pleased expression on her face literally made him feel queasy. It was no small relief that Neliel, following shortly behind the human, appeared thoroughly less animated.

"Are you okay?" Orihime asked, gravitating to Ulquiorra without a second thought and staring up with concern at the smear of blood on his lip. Grimmjow grinned – certain that he would forever cherish the memory of decking Ulquiorra solidly in the face.

Ulquiorra made a motion as if to touch the forgotten injury before furrowing his brow and slipping his hand discreetly back into his pocket. "I'm fine."

Grimmjow scoffed like a jeering child and felt minimal shame. Immaturity be damned.

"And?"

Grimmjow holstered his satisfaction when Nel appeared beside him, staring at him intently. He scowled as he caught her assessing gaze, laced with the same concern reflected in the princess's eyes. "And nothing. We had a long-distance staring contest and then he ran away."

Nel nodded. "You think he'll report our presence?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "Probably. But they don't know that Aizen's bit the dust, so it makes no difference."

"They don't know _yet_."

He narrowed his eyes. Nel looked worried, and not in that annoying womanly way. This was more of the 'shit's-gonna-hit-the-fan-eventually-and-I-don't-like-my-chances-when-it-does' kind of worry. He thought about her inability to manifest her zanpakutou and found himself gripping Pantera's hilt. He would not deal well with such complete vulnerability. That she was holding herself together so well almost impressed him.

"Ulquiorra!" he grunted, interrupting Ulquiorra's irritated protest to the princess's suggestion to heal him. Once annoyed green eyes focused on him, Grimmjow grabbed Nel by the arm. "We're leaving."

* * *

Orihime mechanically took the book that Nel shoved into her hands - "Please get this for me, Orihime," – and watched Grimmjow march her out of the shop, their forms disappearing behind the tent flaps. For the second time that day she was left with no understanding of her companion's departure.

"They're coming back right?" she questioned Ulquiorra, staring at the old, tattered copy of Lord of the Rings that Nel had handed her.

Ulquiorra turned away from her and wondered between two tables, tracing his fingers over the books piled on top of them. Ignoring her again. She was beginning to learn that this was his response to any question he didn't want to answer…or possibly didn't know the answer to. She sighed and moved to stand next to him, taking note of the books that seemed to catch his eye.

"Do you like bird watching?" she asked as he lingered over _'Bird Bingo'_.

He didn't skip a beat. "What do you think?"

Orihime huffed, but found she wasn't truly annoyed by his sarcasm. In fact, a moment later she let out an unladylike snort of laughter. "I think you shouldn't knock it until you try it. Bird watching is very…um…peaceful."

"You mean to say tedious."

She ducked her head to hide her smile. "Perfect for you then, huh?"

She caught Ulquiorra tilting his head to peer at her from the corner of his eye and chuckled, playfully bumping her shoulder against his and utterly failing to budge him. "I'm just teasing, I know you're not that boring. Don't be such a fuddy-duddy."

He cocked his head at her, obviously completely oblivious to how cute he looked - like a grumpy kitten trying to figure out the human's strange mouth-sounds. The image of Ulquiorra as a black and white kitten hit her like a punch to the gut and she strangled a laugh. "_Fluffy_-duddy…" she mumbled distractedly.

Ulquiorra gave her up as a bad job and turned on his heel to resume his browsing. He was met with a wall of adolescent hormones and slowly raised his eyes to glare at the cocky looking human standing over him. While Grimmjow's towering figure had deterred the young men, Ulquiorra's smaller stature seemed to still leave them with some confidence. A tall blond man in his early twenties led a pack of smaller, weaker males.

"Dude," the snot-nosed human brat drawled, thumbs hooked defiantly in the belt of his jeans, "That your girlfriend or something?"

As one, every male turned their eyes to Orihime, who had wondered over to the counter and was paying for Nel's book, eyes glazed over and muttering about bells and litter boxes, a dreamy and frankly terrifying expression on her face. Ulquiorra assessed the trash before him in cold silence. They were about as threatening as gnats, but they had forfeited any right to be near the woman by trying to involving him in their maudlin affairs. Without saying a word, he turned around and grasped the oblivious woman by the hand, leading her from the tent with a firm tug.

"Ulquiorra-san?" she gasped, hastily grabbing her purchase from the counter with her free hand before being pulled into bright sunlight. She tossed a farewell over her shoulder to the store owner and new friends she had left inside. "What's wrong?" she asked, staring uncertainly at where Ulquiorra had unabashedly linked their fingers. Did he even realize that taking a girls hand and leading her somewhere was a romantic gesture?

Regardless, he wouldn't do this with Nel – she was sure of it. Contemplating this, she almost missed Ulquiorra's muttered reply of, "Pests."

"They were nice," she protested halfheartedly, stumbling in her effort to keep up with him. Upon review, there really wasn't much romantic about being pulled around like this. "Where are we going?"

"Back. My business here is concluded."

"What business here?" she demanded before narrowly avoiding two rampant children wielding candyfloss like weaponry and their haggard parents. She swerved out of their way, forcefully pulled back on track when Ulquiorra gave a sharp tug that uncomfortably jarred her wrist. "You mean with the…not-Shinigami?"

He grunted and Orihime dug her heels in. "Wait!"

Ulquiorra stopped, the pair of them now standing in front of a Victorian styled building boasting three different restaurants – an already established feature of the fairground that would remain after the rides and stores had been packed up.

Ulquiorra turned to face her with a displeased look. He still hadn't let go. Part of her was torn between wanting to give in and follow him home, but the part of her that she affectionately dubbed as 'strategist' insisted that any second Ulquiorra wasn't spending with her, he was using to plot something undoubtedly bad for the world in general. And hadn't she already decided to show him…

_…everything?_

"Can't we stay a little while longer? We didn't even go on any of the rides or play any games." The annoyed huff of air that he breathed through his nose almost made her flinch, but she rallied herself and stepped closer until their chests almost touched, placing a soothing hand over the two that were already linked. She spoke softly, as if to a skittish animal, noticing breathlessly how his cat-like pupils dilated into little circles. "I'd really like to spend some more time with you. I think you could have fun. Can't we at least get something to eat?"

She nodded pointedly at the Victorian building, painted in pastel greens and blues. When Ulquiorra's lips thinned in distaste she rolled her eyes. Enough babying the petulant Espada, it was his turn to be led. "Oh, don't be a weenie! Come on!" she cheered, pulling against his hand.

She grinned impishly when moments later, she felt his resistance give way and his quiet steps behind her.

* * *

"So Grimmjow punched you in the face, huh?"

Anyone else would have probably done a marvelous spit-take at that statement, but Ulquiorra calmly swallowed his tea and lowered his cup, peering through the steam at Orihime's sympathetic smile.

"Don't feel too bad. He chained me up and tried to strangle me. Poor guy has no social skills."

"Hn…" Ulquiorra's gaze drifted out over the balcony. She always wondered what he was thinking when his eyes wandered and smiled at the view. The Victorian building held a small seafood restaurant and sushi bar on the second story, and she had insisted on a balcony seat staring out over a park - complete with tall trees, pond, ducks and a quaint, arched bridge. Some people lounged on picnic blankets, tossing bread crumbs over the grass and enjoying the temporary sanctuary from the crowded fairground that continued behind the circle of trees.

Ulquiorra's arm rested along the wooden balcony, fingers drumming softly over the varnished wood. His attention seemed to be drawn to the ducks waddling about scavenging for bread. Orihime chuckled silently at the irony.

"But seriously though – how did Grimmjow-san even manage to make you bleed? You never bleed."

Eyes still on the ducks, Ulquiorra answered in a bored monotone, "The strength of our hierro is directly related to the density of reiatsu embedded within and over our skin. These gigai are designed to prevent our presence from being sensed…a decidedly difficult task if our bodies are made of and surrounded by energy."

"Ohhhh…So you're weaker?"

"Of course."

Orihime tutted, throwing her hands behind her head and imitating a confident smirk. "Is it really okay to be admitting that to me?" Ulquiorra's eyes snapped onto her and she raised her hands defensively. "Kidding, kidding."

Ulquiorra exhaled moodily. "Tiresome woman."

Orihime leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Why do you always call me that anyway? You know my name." There was no real censure in her voice, merely curiosity.

"Why do you insist on referring to me as a human? I distinctly remember telling you to stop."

Orihime gaped stupidly. "That's what it's about? You're getting back at me? That's a little immature for you, isn't it?"

Ulquiorra took another careful sip of tea before allowing himself to give her a disapproving look. "Don't be absurd. It's merely habitual."

She frowned sceptically. "Habit, eh? Nothing to do with you being angry with me?"

"I was under the impression you cared as little as I do about what I call you. Hardly fitting retribution for any annoyance you cause me then. I repeat – it's habitual. If you wish for me to refer to you by name, I will."

She nodded decisively. "Okay then. You're Ulquiorra and I'm Orihime." She winced internally – it was a cultural thing for first names to only be used by close friends, but she was positive that Ulquiorra would be displeased with having human customs shoved on him, regardless of how it was done. So she would be 'Orihime' for him. It wasn't like he knew the significance, or would even care if he did.

"Fine," he acquiesced, but then stared blankly at her outstretched hand.

"I'm reintroducing us," she explained brightly, reaching over and grabbing his hand when he made no move to respond. She gave three vigorous shakes and then released him, leaning back in her chair. "And just so you know, I really did forget you didn't like being called that. So much happened, it just slipped my mind."

He blinked lazily. "Understandable."

"Well, I'm glad we worked that out. I'm going to use the bathroom."

Ulquiorra gave her a sharp look. "I will know if you leave this building."

She waved a placating hand. "Relax, I'm not going anywhere. I'm having a good time."

Orihime contentedly emptied her bladder, stomach rumbling in anticipation of their food. She was hoping she could convince Ulquiorra to stay for the rest of the day. She was considering the possibilities if he agreed as she washed her hands. He was so waspish and yet so engaging. She...she actually _liked_ him, come to think of it. Not just in that pitying 'oh-you-poor-misguided-Espada' way, but in a genuine 'he's-fun-to-be-around' way. His personality reminded her of pure liquorice – dark, bitter and intense but also…addictive. She chuckled to herself. An acquired taste, to be sure.

It was as she approached the paper towel dispenser that she saw it. There, perched atop the shiny, gunmetal grey dispenser sat a small black cell phone. Every muscle in her body seized.

This could be her only opportunity to let her friends know she was alive and well. Her only chance to confirm that they were all okay. She chewed her lip, hesitating. Cold fear washed over her – fear at being confronted by the phone's owner as well as the greater fear of Ulquiorra discovering her. She needed to move fast.

She nabbed the phone and darted into one of the stalls, flipping the lock hastily. Not that that would deter Ulquiorra. Trembling fingers dialed Ichigo's number. It went straight to voicemail – his phone was off. With growing nerves, she dialed Uryuu, listening to each ring with ever-growing desperation.

_Please pick up, Ishida-kun..._

On the balcony, Ulquiorra slowly drummed his fingers against the lacquered wooden table and watched the ducks.

* * *

A/N: If you think _that's_ a bad cliffhanger, just wait...

I would love to hear from all of you :) I do this for you guys, and hearing your thoughts makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.


	15. What Have You Done Now?

**A/N****:** **Important Note!** In this fanfiction, Hell does not exist in the bleach verse! For various reasons, but mainly because I think Hell is a stupid, heinous concept and it is absolutely unnecessary for the Bleach plot.

If anyone is upset by this change to canon, I truly apologise. I just can't get behind such a thing existing when it's totally freaking retarded. Like, oh 'the sins you commit as a Hollow are totes chill, even if you do possess logic and reason, but the sins you commit as a human send you to hell'! Bull. Fucking. Shit. If it's acknowledged that Hollow aren't to blame for their nature, then it should be true for humans as well.

Sorry, but damn. Just no.

Also - A **Warning:** This chapter contains philosophy, and as I've already seen how unsettled people get when Orihime reveals that she has a brain in her head somewhere behind the fluff and cotton-candy, I figured I'd give ya'll a heads up. Some find it OOC for Orihime to be preaching anything other than lovey dovey mumbo jumbo, and they may be right. But in my mind, had Ulquiorra stuck around, and had they continued having philosophical discussions, she would have revealed a far deeper set of beliefs.

I also expand on Ulquiorra's nihilism in this chapter. Nihilism is often the response of people who come to understand the deterministic nature of the universe. This epiphany hit me like a ton of bricks the other day and helped me gain greater understanding of his character.

Oh, and also - Over 400 motherfucking followers?!_ Awwww yiss._

**What Have You Done Now?**

* * *

He couldn't betray her again.

_Snakes that slither in the open become prey…_

But there were no predators who could touch him in the desert sand. Only pale blue eyes and a gentle stab of regret. If things had been different, she wouldn't be silently begging for his lies.

It would be so easy. He could spin the tale just right, and watch her fall into his arms…his to play with forever.

But he wouldn't do that to her.

For the first time in over a century, Gin told nothing but the truth.

She had always been a strong woman. She listened to him in silence until the fire burned low, and he couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for her facade to crack once she left. How long would she sit in her room before the empty bottles surrounding her became the only audience to her drunken sobs? Before bile rose in her throat and she was forced to ask herself the question – what kind of woman cared for a man like _him_?

_It was all for you._

The lie curled up and died like ash on his tongue. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when he had begun to enjoy his life by Aizen's side, but it was around the same time he had realized that hurting people made him _happy_. Tormenting them, watching the panic and despair in their eyes as he spilled their blood or stole their hope, satisfied him more than any meal – excited him more than any woman's flesh.

There _was_ something he had done for her and her alone. The only person who had ever truly accepted him for what he was, he had spent his life trying to kill. Aizen had given him everything he'd ever wanted and he'd thrown it all away in favour of avenging her.

He told her as much and waited for her rejection.

"If Aizen-taichou hadn't gone after you, we would'a probably been genuine pals."

He didn't resent her for it – he wasn't nearly so petty as to blame his decisions on others. And he had never, even for a second, imagined letting Aizen live. But he had contemplated the irony more than once.

'_I've known plenty of men better than you, Ichimaru Gin, and I've never wanted any of them.'_

He didn't know why he was so fond of her. Everything about him relished in causing pain, and yet the thought of her tears brought a sad frown to his face. His affection for her had somehow remained untainted all this time, his sole connection to the relative innocence of his youth. There was absolutely no part of him that wanted to hurt her.

No one ever despised a snake for enjoying the hunt; the rabbit's frantically beating heart, the feel of warm blood on its fangs. And he had never despised himself. Yet he felt a need to remove himself from her life.

He could have had her so many times over the years – he wasn't blind to that fact. She liked him just as much as he liked her. But his very nature would tear her apart. She was loyal, honourable and compassionate. He was treacherous, manipulative and sadistic.

So when she left, head low and eyes hidden, he felt bitter-sweet relief. Her curved form walked away and he sank down to the ground, silver eyes opening to watch the last strand of strawberry-blonde hair disappear around the corner.

"Espada-san," he said moments later, when a hooded figure rounded the cave wall questioningly, "Please make sure she gets back safe and sound."

Coyote Stark hesitated. "You're going to let her leave?"

He shrugged. "I'll be long gone by the time she reports me. No harm done."

"That wasn't what I meant." At Gin's silence, Stark's head shook beneath his cowl, giving the former Shinigami up as a lost cause.

And Gin sat alone in in the dark, a deep sadness settling over him. He planned to disappear – maybe go find some nice Hollow village to torment – and he doubted he'd ever see her again. Was this how she'd felt, watching him walk away all those times?

So despite everything, he'd hurt her.

He left the cave not long after, his white figure moving leisurely over the sand. His bloodied clothes drew hollow to him like flies to shit, but they all kept their distance. He could feel their hungry, vulture eyes and took pleasure in slaughtering the few that got too close. Even with one arm, he would have no trouble surviving in this barren place. He was almost fond of it – shady, desolate and full of bad things. It was, he thought warmly, like a reflection of his soul.

And as he travelled, he thought of Rangiku.

He hadn't really thought about her much..._before_. She had been tucked away in the deepest corner of his mind, where Aizen could never find her. Once, after being showered with a glorious mist of red, a foolish hollow's corpse disintegrating into the wind, he felt bloodlust and the gloominess of memories he'd assumed forgotten finally begin to wear on his nerves. He considered finding her.

Finding her and running her through.

It was a fleeting ghost of a thought, the kind of vague, fanciful idea that usually led to someone falling victim to his twisted sense of whimsy. It was the same dark whisper of indistinct intention that had led him to Rukia on the day of her execution.

_The memory of her scream always brought him a shiver of delight._

But the idea of killing Rangiku was discarded before it could even form into a solid thought. The notion made his throat clench unpleasantly, and his hands tremble like a nervous virgin on her wedding night. There was no anticipation, no excitement. Only a sick, hollow pit in his stomach.

Over the years, he had thought about doing it many times, if only to check that his time with Aizen hadn't changed him irreparably. He had always felt the same – disgusted and ill.

But oh, what a melancholy turn of events. It would have been better if she had never found him. With nothing left of him, she could have moved on. Become stronger – happier. She came to him, ready and willing to hear how he was nothing but a tragic hero, working tirelessly to thwart Soul Society's greatest enemy…doing only what he had to…

And he, stupid, sentimental bastard that he was, had instead chosen to give her the ugly, gory truth and let her walk away. How might it have been to instead have comforted her, have assured her of his righteous heart…and fucked her on that cave floor? If he had only lied, he could have been inside her right now. His face pulled taught in a wistful, malevolent smile at the thought, a visage that could unsettle even the most bloodthirsty of hollow.

But alas, there was no use crying over un-spilled milk.

He had been travelling for about a day when he felt their presence. His head turned to the side, peering through the moonlight to see her unmistakable form appear and touch down lightly on a nearby dune. Seconds later, Stark's cloaked figure appeared behind her.

He smiled up at her benignly as she approached, hand held loosely at his side though he was sure a wiser man would be drawing his zanpakutou after seeing her face. A hardness had settled on her features, all the more disquieting for her red rimmed eyes. Had she hidden her reiatsu for his benefit, or for the Shinigami who would surely be searching for her? She descended the sand gracefully, coming to stop a few feet from him. Behind her, Stark waited atop the dune.

He really _should_ kill her, he thought fondly and without an inkling of intent. After all, he still had a lot to live for. There was still such fun to be had in this lawless land.

Ah well.

A sort of resigned sigh escaped his lips. "Do ya promise to wear somethin' pretty at my execution?"

She frowned, blue eyes narrowing in confusion and he shrugged. "If you think I should be punished…" he drawled, "I'm hardly in any shape to resist arrest." He lifted his stump of an arm with a 'what can you do?' shake of his head.

Soul Society would hardly let him go with a slap on his one remaining wrist. He didn't want to die…but he certainly wasn't going to fight her.

"I'm not arresting you," she said, taking another step forward. She looked at him…well damn it all, she looked at him exactly the way he looked at her – with withheld longing and gloom, covered by her mask of choice. "I have no interest in having you killed." She was presenting herself as all business, arms folded beneath her breasts, resting her weight on her left hip. "But I can't forgive you."

He raised his brows. "Is that all you came back to say?"

Her mask faltered and she shifted restlessly. "No. I'm here because I'm giving myself a chance."

"Hmm?" he purred, "A chance for what?"

"To take what I want. You're going to earn my forgiveness, Gin. And Kira's. You owe us that much."

_If you were to turn into a snake tomorrow and began devouring humans, and from the same mouth you devoured humans, you cried out to me, "I Love You!" Would I still be able to say "I Love You," the same way I do today?_

He couldn't help the sardonic chuckle that escaped him then. "You're gonna force me to atone for my sins, Rangiku? Do you really think that will make you feel better about your…_feelings_? Even if I saved a thousand times more lives than I took, I'd still be the same man you see before you now. You can't fix what just isn't broken."

_Emotions? Nope, I've got nothin' like that. I told you when we first met, didn't I? I'm a snake. With cold skin, no emotions, that slithers around searching for prey with its tongue, swallowing down whatever looks tasty._

He closed the distance between them with a burst of speed, skeletal fingers halting the hand that had instinctively reached for her sword. "Ah ah, let's not be flashin' steel now…" he said, smiling down at her wide eyes. His voice twisted into once of false hurt. "You're not afraid of me, are ya?"

"No," she said stubbornly, albeit somewhat breathlessly, and his grin widened.

"That's good. _You_ don't ever have to be afraid of me," he leaned down, tilting his head to nibble at her bottom lip, all the while keeping a restraining hand over her sword arm. He was toying with her, but he couldn't exactly feel guilty…Not when she was the one being a fool.

Coming back, only to say such simple, childish things. She hadn't changed a bit…she was still the same little girl trying to cling to his sleeve, trying to stop him from leaving.

She seemed to come to her senses when his tongue slipped daringly into her mouth and she pushed against him, staggering back with a fierce scowl and yanking her arm out of his grip. He stood there, smiling impishly at her. His tongue snaked out, running sensually across his lips. He had to give her credit though – other than a slight flush and a gentle heave of her bosom, she didn't appear too rattled. The angry frown on her face meant that she wasn't happy either.

He tilted his head at her. "Fair's fair, Rangiku…you taste better without all the salt," he gestured to his own, tear-free cheek, feeling a twinge of regret at the hurt that flashed over her face.

She came to him in tears, clung to him because she thought he had died…and he mocked her.

"No more games," she commanded, all business again. "I'm being serious."

He pouted. "I preferred it when you were being ravished by my tongue, but I suppose I won't catch you off guard again."

She didn't respond to his teasing, instead turning on her heel. She certainly was bold, showing her back to him so brazenly. "You're going to follow _me_ now, Ichimaru Gin. Orihime needs me, and you're going to help."

To his surprise, he found his feet following her, an intrigued smile on his face. He had no intention of going anywhere with her, however pleasant it might be to drink in the sight of her from behind. But still, he could humour her a bit longer. "Orihime? You mean that sweet lil' biscuit Ulquiorra swiped from right under your noses?"

She faltered and stopped to look at him, eyes briefly acknowledging the cloaked Espada making his way towards them. There was a look in her eye that made him think it would be wise not to say anything too…_honest_ about his involvement in the little human's ordeal in Las Noches. After all, he really _wasn't_ in much shape to fight her, and she might decide execution was too kind a fate for him if she knew.

"She's disappeared," Rangiku explained and Gin's brows rose in interest, "Some of us volunteered to help find her." She tossed her hair, the motion agitated, and carried on walking, Gin at her heels. "But when we got here some important lab had been blown up and Kurotsuchi-taichou got his panties all in a twist and threw a tantrum. You know how he gets." She scowled. "Hopefully they've sorted that out by now and are resuming the search. Of course, it's possible they've already found her, but I doubt it. It took an entire war to get her back last time…"

But Gin was no longer listening. He had stopped abruptly, eyes on the ground before him, his silver hair swaying forward to cover his eyes. Rangiku turned back when she noted he was no longer following. Of his shadowed features, only his downturned lips were visible. His spine arched and his head lowered, making him appear stooped and menacing. The tips of his skeletal fingers twitched.

"Gin?" she questioned.

He should never have sent those spiteful, one-eyed Arrancar brats to do his dirty work for him. He should have found a way to murder that human girl himself. He should have watched the light leave her eyes. Should have sliced up her corpse and scattered the pieces across every dimension to make certain she was gone.

The grin that curled into his shadowed face was anything but pleasant. "Has anything _else_ happened?" he directed his question to the ground.

Rangiku sounded disturbed. "I don't know – I wandered off and your friend found me. Why? What's wrong?"

Gin ignored her, instead lifting his eyes to Stark, who waited some way ahead of them. "Is Ulquiorra still alive?" he asked quietly and with false cheer, knowing that he would be heard no matter the distance.

The cloaked figure was silent for a while, before his answer was carried over by the wind. "I don't know."

Gin absorbed this for a moment. Then, ignoring Rangiku's alarmed stare, he threw his head back and began to laugh. It was a hair-raisingly soft, singsong laugh that seemed as sarcastic and deceitful as his accent.

Over a hundred years of careful planning, only to have his revenge stolen by a human boy. And now…that boy's friend was going to undo it all.

"We need to warn them," he said, before the thought had truly registered. He had no interest in saving their lives, but he certainly wasn't going to sit back and watch all his hard work become undone. Rangiku's wide, worried expression made his gut clench.

"Warn who?" she asked.

Gin grimaced. _"Everyone."_

* * *

_The number you have dialled is not available at present. Please try again later._

Orihime tightened her grip on the phone in frustration, pulling it away from her ear and gazing morosely down at the pretty yin-yang themed wallpaper. She sank down onto the closed toilette seat, scuffing her sandals over the tiled floor and tried to calculate what time it would be back home if it was noon in California. It would be early morning for them, wouldn't it?

Why on earth would Ishida-kun not answer his phone? Surely they had to have at least _considered_ that she might try to contact them?

Or maybe it hadn't even occurred to them. Maybe they thought her too incompetent to do even that much.

She sighed and cradled her forehead, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Long, silky strands of sunset hair slid off her shoulder, failing to completely hide her trembling lips. Tatsuki-chan…she would contact Tatsuki-chan. With a practiced hand, she began dialling her best friend.

At that moment, the bathroom door eased open with an obscenely loud creak and Orihime froze, eyes wide and instinctively pulled her feet from the floor and rested them on the edge of the seat, not that it would do her much good if Ulquiorra really wanted to find her. She clasped the phone to her bosom, fearfully staring at the discouragingly fragile wooden door that was all that stood between her and discovery. What _would_ he do if he discovered her…_rebellion?_ He kept saying all this ominous, movie villain stuff about how he wouldn't hurt her if she behaved herself like a good little prisoner, but surely they were beyond all that?

Surely he wouldn't…he never _had..._

But as light footsteps were heard beyond her dark and stifling sanctuary, she found that her heart wasn't quite in agreement with her reasoning and it began hammering away inside her chest. Blood and adrenaline flowed through her and one hand instinctively reached up to touched her Rikka as a shadow moved across the light shining beneath the crack of the door.

When a loud, feminine voice called out, "Shit, it's not in here, Suedey!" she nearly yelped and fell off her seat. As it was, her squeak was stifled by a soft curse in the direction of the door. Another set of footsteps entered.

"Maybe I left it in the car?" a woman, presumably 'Suedey', mused aloud.

"Dude, I'm sure I saw you check the time on it earlier," the first voice replied, and Orihime stiffened as she realised that she was holding the very object they sought. "Some bitch must've taken it…" Despite the amusement in the woman's voice, Orihime flinched.

"Whatever...it only cost a hundred bucks anyway." 'Suedey' seemed decidedly more laid back about the affair than her friend, but Orihime felt a stab of guilt at the resignation in her voice.

"I could give it a call?" the first woman offered and then lowered her voice to a convincing mock whisper, "Maybe the thief is still here?"

Orihime felt like she'd been punched in the sternum, and immediately began fumbling for a way to turn off the phone clutched in her sweaty hands.

But she was saved when the second woman huffed out a laugh and said, "Don't bother. Let's just go have a smoke."

Orihime listened to them leave and waited a while for her heart to slow before staring down at the terrifying little gadget in her hands. She firmly turned it off and then slumped in her seat, letting her feet hit the floor. She felt terribly guilty now. She hadn't planned on taking the phone, but she didn't have enough time left to contact her friends. She had already been gone for at least five minutes and Ulquiorra was surely coming to a boil by now. She had no purse or pockets to keep the phone in, and so she tucked it into her bra, near her arm. A quick check in the mirror confirmed that, with her sizable bust, no one would be able to tell.

Splashing her face with cold water to calm her nerves, she decided to convince Ulquiorra that she had merely been washing away any last specks of face paint. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Ulquiorra would be able to pick up on even the slightest hint of stress within her and would immediately become suspicious. He was far, far too observant not to miss the slight trembling in her hands, and certainly clever enough to know that the paleness of her cheeks was not happenstance. She would have to be a better actress than anyone would ever expect of her to fool _him, _of all people.

So she plastered on a smile, combed her fingers through her hair and adjusted her dress so it pulled attractively at her figure. After a contemplative pause, she pulled loose a few buttons on her pretty, blue, button-up sundress, further plunging her neckline. She cocked her head thoughtfully and then felt a startlingly genuine, Rangiku-like smirk tug at her lips. Ulquiorra _had_ said her boobs were _preferable, _and just that thought had her mood lifting. Chewing on her lip and pinching her cheeks to give them colour – a habit she had picked up nearly every time she was preparing to see Kurosaki-kun – she gave herself an encouraging nod in the mirror. She could do this.

Ulquiorra looked up at her with his usual frown when she returned and she found it was no effort to give him a warm smile. He watched her settle into her seat, and somehow she knew as she smoothed down her skirt and casually avoided his eye, that he was analyzing her harder than a fantasy-sci-fi body scanner. Remarkably, he seemed to find nothing unsatisfactory and by the time she looked back up he had returned to staring out over the balcony.

Orihime inwardly celebrated her success. "Still no food huh? I guess they're pretty busy at peak lunch hour. There's a queue outside you know – we're lucky we even got seats!"

Ulquiorra grunted. It seemed every male, no matter how well-spoken, inevitably returned to their basest form of communication at some point. "Are you bored?" she asked quietly.

"No." He didn't elaborate further. Orihime sighed and followed his gaze outside. She started when she spotted two attractive young women in stylish, alternative clothing standing by the pond and smoking. Were they the unwitting victims of her heinous crime? She watched as the slightly taller girl, with pretty ginger curls contrasting her tight black pants and combat boots, laughed at something her friend had said. Her smile was so wide, Orihime unwittingly found herself grinning.

"I'm not bored either. Is it really bad that I'm having a fun time?" She said it lightly and somewhat rhetorically, but she felt like he would have a real answer for her.

"I believe the entire point of this event is to evoke that reaction," he responded quietly.

She chuckled. Trust Ulquiorra to get to the point. "Of course. I guess I'm just…not sure how to feel about all of this. Soul Society thinks that Hollows are evil, but I just can't bring myself to believe that anymore. You and Grimmjow-san and Nel-san are so…different to what I had thought. You're really not evil…are you?"

Ulquiorra finally peeled his eyes away from whatever had fixated him outside and turned to stare at her intently. "This world is governed by deterministic laws. Free will, and subsequently, moral accountability are an illusion."

She blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected such a response. "You don't believe in free will?" she asked mildly.

His gaze narrowed intently. "Of course not. And without it, all value you have placed on existence itself becomes meaningless." He spread one hand, palm up, "There is no prize for those who do good," he spread his other hand, "No cosmic hand of justice that punishes those who do evil. The very concepts of good and evil are no more than a tool. Morality is a set of rules and guidelines made by sentient beings who needed to explain advantageous and disadvantageous conduct on a larger scale."

She smiled sadly. "That's a pretty bleak world view."

"You disagree?" he inquired softly, a toxic glint in his green eyes.

"No…I don't actually. But I think you've misunderstood something about me. I _know_ bad people get away with bad things and good people die who don't deserve it. I _know_ how the world works, Ulquiorra-sa-…uh, Ulquiorra." He didn't even blink at her stutter. "But I also know in my heart," she splayed her hand over her chest meaningfully, "That for all the bad that's out there, there is also beauty and happiness. Existence will never be meaningless so long as that is true."

Ulquiorra leaned back and tilted his head at her. "This obsession you have with the heart is no more than an attempt to outrun the realization of your own insignificance by binding yourself to another. You need to believe that whatever emotional connections you manage to form give your life a purpose, as if surrounding yourself with others is the solution to life's futility. What you fail to understand is that it is not _your_ existence that is pointless. It is existence itself. We are no more than billiard balls on a table we cannot see, pushed along by forces we cannot comprehend. There is no meaning to any of this."

She listened to him, digesting his words. She had grown so used to her conversations with Ulquiorra spiraling into philosophy that she didn't even take a moment to consider that strangeness of it all. She felt pity, unsurprisingly, but more than that, she felt hope. "Ulquiorra …please don't take this the wrong way but…so what?"

If ever he had looked taken-aback, it was now. "What?"

She leaned forward, brow furrowed, biting her lips and informed him sternly, "I understand your philosophy, but I don't agree with what you take away from it," She stared unabashedly into his eyes. "If we have no free will, if we have no real choice…" she inhaled and closed her eyes with a small smile, "That's liberating."

Ulquiorra cocked a slender eyebrow. "Ho?" he murmured sceptically.

Her eyes snapped open and she elaborated in a cheerful rush, "Obviously we can't get carried away and stop caring about our responsibilities, because the world we live in is one where choices have consequences, even if they're not ours to make. So we try our best to make the choices that make us the happiest while hurting people the least. So what if our wants and desires are just…reactions to stuff in our brain and our environment? That doesn't make us stop wanting or desiring them!"

She shifted forward in her seat, egged on by the look of intense concentration on his face as she spoke. She had never met anyone who _listened_ quite like Ulquiorra.

"And so what if everything is predetermined – we don't know the future! I don't know what I'm going to do in the next five minutes, so what does it matter if…if…" she waved a hand dismissively, "If it's all already set in motion. People read books and movies that have a definite plotline that can't be changed and the reason they enjoy them," she lightly slapped a fist against one palm for emphasis, "Is because they don't know how they end. And life doesn't have to have a meaning to be meaningful!" She gestured wildly to the room at large, though she refrained from raising her voice and still spoke in a calmly and evenly, "We give meaning to life – us, people who can actually ask the question 'what is it all for?'. Existence itself gives existence meaning! And that meaning is different to everyone. What do you gain by saying that life has no point?"

Ulquiorra looked rather unimpressed with her speech and said, "The truth has nothing to do with gain. It is simply the truth."

"Well what good is the truth if you don't gain anything from it?" she shot back with a stubborn frown.

He narrowed his eyes challengingly. "Intellectual honesty."

Orihime scoffed. "Oh come on…Honesty Shmonesty, who cares? It's completely normal to ignore certain inconvenient truths and just be happy. It doesn't _hurt_ anybody. What good does it do for you or the world or anyone else if you're convinced there's no meaning to living?"

He frowned at her. "It doesn't impair my function in any way, Inoue Orihime, to understand the science of life. I assure you, I will continue to exist quite stubbornly even without your misguided feel-good campaign. And your culture of indulgence in foolish, faith-based beliefs without a scrap of evidence, is more harmful than you might think."

She sighed sadly, and decided to backtrack. "I know that, I just wish you could experience life the way I do sometimes. I think you'd be shocked at how wonderful it is."

"Oh really," he said in a deceptively light tone. "How wonderful has your life truly been?"

Orihime wished she could make him understand. As pleasant as it was debating with Ulquiorra – he never took things personally, never raised his voice and never refused to listen – it felt like an impossible task to actually _convince_ him of anything. But that was to be expected – it's not like you could _actually_ talk people into having different world views. Changes like that needed to be experienced. But still, she could do her best to explain herself.

She twirled her hair absentmindedly. "My life has been great. People can get so caught up in hopelessness and despair when they start looking for something bigger than themselves and they can't find it. They get so lost they can't see that the true beauty in life is right here," and she leaned over the table and placed her hand over the place where his heart would be, "In ourselves. We're creatures that can think and ask beautiful questions. And even though it's just hormones or chemical reactions or whatever, we can feel love – and companionship. We can make connections with other people – something that seems as impossible as the land joining the sky, and yet it happens all the time, every day. I don't think the meaning of life is some…big, universal answer to everything. It's this…"

And she slid her hand down his chest, lightly brushing the tips of her fingers over the hard muscle beneath his white button-up shirt, before grabbing his hand and pressing her palm against his, "These little moments we experience every day, where we learn and feel new things." Her expression saddened as she recalled the longing in his voice the previous night, "And emptiness, the loss of existence…that's the only truly meaningless thing in the world."

She stared into his eyes, willing him to understand. Ulquiorra tightened his hold on her hand. "And you can ignore the fact that ultimately…these moments…will amount to nothing?"

She smiled indulgently. "Ulquiorra, nothing can be relevant to everything, the world's too big. If you zoomed out far enough we'd be nothing but a little spec of a planet in the distance. Not even the sun is important if you look from far enough away. People need to operate a little closer to home or they'll go crazy from loneliness. This moment is important to me. Why shouldn't that be enough?"

Unfortunately, any answer he might have had was interrupted by the arrival of their food. Orihime withdrew her hand from his, reluctantly making space for the waiter to place their plates.

They ate in relative silence after that, but Orihime could tell that he was still thinking about all she had said. And that was enough to keep the happy glow in her chest alive.

* * *

Nel felt her jaw crack and pain lanced through her entire body in a delicious shudder just before she once more hit the desert sand. She was back on her feet instantly, just barely rolling out from under the boot that had been aiming quite determinedly at her face.

Her chest heaved with deep, steady breaths as she assessed her opponent, lightly brushing away the blood dripping from her mouth with her knuckles. The waxing moon of Hueco Mundo illuminated her foe. Grimmjow danced lightly over the sand, using the tips of his boots, and kept his fists up in a boxer's pose. The fierce smirk baring his pointed teeth failed to meet his cool, heavily lidded eyes. Grimmjow no longer wore his gigai, and so his bloodied uniform made him seem far more damaged than he was.

Nel hadn't ever been this badly physically beaten in her long existence. She had more than one broken rib, and her clothes had been ruined beyond repair by tears and spots of blood. Every inch of her ached, and she could barely open her left eye. Trapped in her gigai, she simply could not hope to keep up with Grimmjow.

And she had never been more turned on.

She fell down into a crouch and shot towards him with inhuman speed, banking on the leg that came flying up to meet her. Grimmjow was physically stronger, but even with her long hiatus from being the third Espada, she still had far more fighting experience. She easily jumped to avoid the kick, lightly perching on his leg before bringing her knee up and fiercely connecting it with the surprised Espada's chin.

He staggered back, but she knew her blows lacked the power to truly damage him and so followed up her attack with an elbow in his gut. Once he'd doubled over, she slipped behind him and pulled him into an expert choke hold.

Grimmjow struggled a few seconds before realising that pulling and tugging would never get him out of her grip. An explosion of reiatsu hit her like a brick wall, and sent her flying through the air. Blood sprayed generously from her mouth as her internal organs protested the blow, and her back hit the sand once more. She barely avoided his follow up attack, and his fist hit the sand behind her spine, creating a large explosion of sand and a crater that she struggled to escape. She crawled over the sand, coughing up dust and struggling to see.

A hand gripped the back of her shirt, and before she could make so much as a yell of protest, she had been pulled back over the Grimmjow's head and tossed high into the air.

He was a predictable fighter, thank god, and so when he appeared in the air above her she was able to grab his shin, just before his boot could hit her squarely in the gut and send her careening back to the ground. She dug her fingers into his hakama and flipped her body up over him, wrapping her legs around his neck along the way. With a powerful twist, she sent _him_ back down to the ground.

Through the newly kicked up explosion of sand, she was unable to see the cero coming. It sped towards her, too fast to dodge and she didn't even have time to pray that Szayel Aporro had made the right adjustments for her gigai. She simply opened her mouth, and welcomed the buzzing heat of the cero.

It went down her throat and settled happily in her stomach, where it began to churn alongside her own energy. Immediately, she felt the urge to throw it back up, but she managed to force herself not to. She needed to experiment with something…

The energy swirled unhappily within in, but slowly she could feel it starting to assimilate. She clutched her stomach in an attempt to appease the burning sensation. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to keep the cero down.

Finally, after far too long, she let out a dainty, burp-sized cero and straightened up with a satisfied gasp.

Grimmjow crouched in the air before her, watching her without expression. "So what, you think you can just siphon of _my_ energy or something?"

"More importantly," she said, mildly out of breath, "Why are you trying to kill me?"

"Tche. _You_ asked for my help, lady."

Nel smiled. "So I did."

And with that, she promptly split in two.

Grimmjow cursed in shock as the gigai plummeted to the ground, leaping to his feet. Still hovering in the air, a fully grown Nel, clad only in tattered and revealing green cloth blinked at him in shock. In her right hand rested a glowing pink shape in the form of a zanpakutou.

"Gri – " she began.

She was interrupted when, with a cartoonish pop, a toddler sized Nel replaced her and cried out in fear, slowly beginning to fall.

Grimmjow easily caught the small child by the scruff of her neck and lowered them both to the ground.

He dropped the tiny Nel on top of her sprawled gigai with a scowl. "Nice work, idiot. Ya shoulda coughed up that cero when you had the chance."

Nel rolled off of her larger gigai and got to her feet. "Damn," the little girl said with unsettling calm, "I was having fun."

Grimmjow frowned at the gigai's thoroughly beaten form. He was fairly certain he'd broken several bones.

"Fun? How the hell could that have been fun?"

The child blinked up at him and grinned.

"Nel's a sewious masso-kiss!"

* * *

Uryuu walked down the steps to Karakura High's front door and scowled at the eighteen missed called he'd received from his father. He had no intention of speaking to the man unless absolutely necessary, and certainly not until he'd found Orihime.

He deleted the missed calls with one push of a button, closing his eyes in annoyance. It still irked him that he had to show up for school while Rukia and Byakuya searched the country with Tatsuki. She, according to everyone else, was attending a karate tour around the world. Urahara, thank god, had made appropriate excuses for all of them before they'd disappeared into Hueco Mundo. The Karakura school board was currently under the impression he'd just recovered from a bad case of diarrhoea.

Urahara was a dead man when this was all over.

He rubbed a tired hand over his mouth as he pulled away from the crowd of students and briefly lamented his inability to return home and collapse into bed. He needed to check with the police for any updates, although he knew it was highly doubtful that they would have found anything. Then he needed to check in with Urahara. After Yoruichi's unsettling news about the stolen Arrancar corpses, he had a feeling that just about anything could go wrong at any moment.

So lost was he in his grim thoughts that it took him a moment to realise someone was calling his name. He stopped and turned, blinking at the young woman hurrying up the street towards him. "Ishida-san! Oh thank goodness I found you!"

Uryuu nodded politely at the teller from his favourite sewing supplies store. She came to a stop a few feet from him and placed her hands on her knees in an action so reminiscent of Orihime it forced a lump into his throat. "Yumiko-san," he greeted the panting young woman, "Is everything alright?"

Yumiko, only a few years older than him, raised her head and, to his alarm, began to cry. "No, it's not! Ishida-san…I think I was the last person to see her. I think I saw who took Inoue Orihime!"

* * *

Over the course of the day, Orihime discovered that Ulquiorra was nigh unbeatable at fairground games. While she furiously flailed about attempting to beat her already established _Whack-a-Mole_ high score, Ulquiorra smashed the offensively chipper creatures down one by one with a lazy flick of his wrist, only half of his attention on his game while the rest was focused on Orihime's increasingly flushed face, dishevelled hair and heaving bosom.

Every task she presented he performed, and she found herself becoming increasingly competitive with each game Ulquiorra mastered. The shooting gallery, with its innocent looking clay ducky targets caused her to grit her teeth and groan in frustration as every shot missed.

Ulquiorra watched her aim determinedly for the fifth time, thoughts unfathomable. Wishing more than anything to beat him, she hung her head in despair as yet another shot veered just left of her target.

"Bad luck there, little lady!" the store vendor declared with a grin. "There's two shots left in there. Care to try again?"

She raised her head to turn down his offer, but blinked in surprise as Ulquiorra seized her rifle from her hand, staring down the barrel with a frown. Then, meeting the vendor's wide eyes with an unflinching gaze, he gave the end of the barrel the slightest twitch with his fingers, the sound of bending metal assaulting all their ears. Not breaking eye contact with the vendor, he held the rifle out for her.

Her next two shots hit the mark dead on, and after Ulquiorra and the vendor had a quiet chat, Orihime found herself walking away with the biggest, pinkest panda-bear she had ever owned.

"That was so cool – we got scammed by a legit con-artist! My friends will be totally jealous."

"Jealous of almost being deceived and robbed?"

"_So_ jealous."

The _High Striker_ was the first game that Orihime won with ease, the ringing bell sending everyone's gaze to land on the young woman wielding a rubber mallet and laughing villainously at her companion. It was only after Ulquiorra's strike sent the puck shooting straight through the top of the machine that her smirk fell away to be replaced by genuine giggles. And so it continued, until eventually, Orihime declared defeat after failing to accurately toss a single ring. She shook her head amusedly at Ulquiorra's neat, multi-coloured stack of rings, all hooked over a single bottle.

"You win Ulquiorra!" she huffed from behind her armful of Ulquiorra's prizes. The pink panda had been joined by a stuffed monkey in a top hat she had named Shinshi, a tweedy-bird keychain and a basket containing make up and face creams.

Ulquiorra blinked slowly at her. "I wasn't aware we were competing."

Orihime laughed. "Don't lie! I could tell you were getting into it."

His frown only made her smile widen. "It's almost sundown. Can we go on the Ferris Wheel before we leave?"

Ulquiorra agreed, and after a quick detour to deposit their goods in the car, the pair of them soon found themselves seated high above the world.

"It's so beautiful up here," Orihime sighed wistfully, swinging her legs to and fro through the air. Her soft grey eyes took on the orange glow of the sunset and the beautiful lights below them. The fair seemed to have no intention of closing down any time soon, and possessed its own dazzling sense of adventure as evening approached. "I wish I could fly like you guys."

Ulquiorra, seated next to her, had also been taking in the view, although with somewhat less admiration. He turned his gaze on Orihime. "You could easily learn."

"Really?" she asked brightly, swinging her legs with more force.

"You have more than enough reiatsu. You simply need to know how to manipulate it."

She giggled, and turned large, sparkling silver eyes on him. "Would you teach me?"

"Perhaps," he said noncommittally.

Orihime shivered slightly, her hands rubbing the exposed skin on her arms. "I'd have to remember to dress warm before flying. It's cold up here!"

When Ulquiorra shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her, she was stunned into silence.

Later, when they were both seated in the car and flying through the city towards what had temporarily become home, she said softly, "Thank you, Ulquiorra. I know you didn't have to do all that today."

She got no response, but she hadn't really expected one.

As they entered the apartment, Orihime shrugged out of Ulquiorra's coat and hung it on the back of one of the dining room chairs. A sense of contentment and happiness filled her.

She was just turning around to ask Ulquiorra if he wanted a drink when a noise sounded through the apartment that made every muscle in her body seize and her blood run cold, as if she had been doused in the icy-water.

From within her bra, tucked away near her underarm, came the unmistakeable jingle of an alarm. She stared wide-eyed and horrified at Ulquiorra, just barely registering that the phone was obviously the kind that played its alarm even when switched off. It was incredible how quickly the air filled with a tension so thick she felt her throat run dry and begin to undulate in a sickly parody of a fearful gulp. She didn't have the time to truly think it through, but in precious few seconds her instincts had told her that she was in a bad, bad situation.

Ulquiorra closed the door behind him, although he moved in such a way that he didn't let her out of his sight for a moment. He watched as her hand fumbled over her shirt, pressing a random, unseen button on the phone to silence the merry tune.

When he took a step towards her she was unable to stop herself from retreating with a startled gasp. Immediately he froze, cat-like eyes narrowing and refusing to leave her face. She felt as if her limbs were made of cotton. "I- I can…" she began, stumbling over her words. Stupid, she was so stupid! "It's not what you think, Ulquiorra!"

"Oh?" he answered softly, and it was more than just his eyes that made her think of a feline now. Somehow she could sense an imperceptible shift in his stance that indicated a readiness to pounce, and if he had had fur, she was certain it would have been raised high around his neck.

She would never be able to say how she knew when to act. Like the snapping of a rubber band she could feel something in the atmosphere break. In a single instant, Ulquiorra disappeared from where he was standing and Orihime, panic-stricken, raised her arms and cried, "Santen Keshun!"

The hand that had been poised to slam into her chest crashed into her shield with such force it sent a pulse of energy through the air that reverberated through the glass windows, making them shudder in their frames. She cried out in surprise and staggered back into the table, unwilling to believe that he had intended to strike her with such force. Cracks immediately began to creep out from under his hand, making a gruesome web over her shield.

"Ulquiorra, please -!" she began desperately, but the instant their eyes locked through the orange glow her plea died in her throat. She saw something there that told her there was nothing she could do or say that would deter him. She didn't want to believe that Ulquiorra would hurt her, but she had done something bad and he _knew_.

As her shield shattered and his hand forced its way through, she leaned back as far as she could. "Tsubak-!" she began, but was immediately cut off as the cruel hand snagged her around her throat. Several things happened at once. A bright flash that was Tsubaki answering her call flew through the air, but she didn't have a chance to see where he was heading as the world spun dizzyingly.

Ulquiorra used his unforgiving and agonising grip on her throat to swing her around. She heard him make a sound like a gasp and then pain exploded in the back of her head and spine as she was slammed mercilessly against the wall beside the front door. Her head bounced with a sickening crack and her feet scrabbled limply for purchase, suspended a foot off the ground.

Somewhere in the back of her mind was a voice screaming that it wasn't real, couldn't be real. Ulquiorra had never – would never -

And yet he held her up above him, his body turned away as if he were performing the most impersonal of tasks, as if her hands tugging desperately at his wrist and the strangled gasps coming from her were nothing more than the buzzing of a fly. His icy hand constricted the fragile column of her neck, uncaring for her galloping heartbeat.

Orihime felt a stab of true panic as she saw the deep gash running horizontally over his cheek, courtesy of the tiny creature clutched in his other fist, furiously alternating between biting his thumb and screaming curses. Tsubaki had obviously managed to cut through the weaker skin of Ulquiorra's gigai, and she realized that had been the cause of his gasp. She herself was unable to believe that she had actually hurt him, and she was terrified for Tsubaki. Ulquiorra was looking down at the fairy with his familiar, blank expression, but all Orihime could focus on was the blood running generously down his cheek.

Oh god, oh god, she had hurt Ulquiorra – he was going to kill her – he was going to kill Tsubaki -

"You fucking bastard! I'll kill you! You let her go or I'll castrate you with your own teeth and shove your excuse for a dick down your throat! I'll tear out your eyes and feed them to you so you can watch it get digested you sick freak!"

Ulquiorra brought the squirming creature up and examined it at eye level, completely ignoring Orihime's desperate clawing at his arm and at the air just short of his head. "Fascinating," he said softly, making even Tsubaki flinch, "To think that such a vulgar creature is a manifestation of your soul."

"I'll show you vulgar, you asshole!" Tsubaki roared, but he was cut off by a cry of pain. Ulquiorra was slowly tightening his fingers around the fairy's tiny body. Orihime tried to protest, but all that came out was a weak, choked whimper.

"Silence…" Ulquiorra murmured to Tsubaki, luminous green eyes looming closer to the struggling creature, "Return to your master before I crush you."

Tsubaki blanched, tiny beads of sweat running down his temple. But he still seemed ready to give a vicious retort. Only Orihime's frantic gasps, and the earnest shaking of her head gave him pause. With a single look into her tear-filled eyes he let out a final howl of rage before turning back into a beam of light that shot back into the hairpin tucked over Orihime's chest.

Orihime's vision was swimming, both from the tears falling uncontrollable down her face and the lack of oxygen. She felt sure that if Ulquiorra wasn't cutting off her air supply, she'd be sobbing. Her head was throbbing so hard she could feel her heart beating in her teeth. It was only as darkness began to creep in from the edges of her vision, her eyes fluttering in an effort to stay open, for her to stay conscious, that she felt herself slowly being lowered to the ground. Her shoes touched the floor, her legs threatening to collapse without Ulquiorra's cruel grip. Now that she was standing she could gasp for breath, and she realised vaguely that it had been her own weight and gravity strangling her.

The moment he slackened his hold she began to slump over, and it was only his hand pushing against her chest that kept her upright. Her head lolled forward helplessly, her knees buckled. She could only manage a small whimper as the hand that had previously held Tsubaki ruthlessly gripped the collar of her dress and ripped it open, exposing her heaving breasts and concaved belly. Buttons flew through the air and bounced off the wooden floors, rolling to all corners of the room. He briefly groped around her bra before slipping out the phone that lay concealed within.

They stood like that for several seconds. Ulquiorra's firm hand against her chest kept her upright, and only the sound of her ragged breathing and his fingers flying over the keys permeated the air. Then she felt him stiffen, felt his fingers curl into her flesh.

Ulquiorra seized her jaw and stared directly into her eyes. In his hand she could see the phone's screen opened on the call log, the last outgoing call having been made only a few short hours ago.

He leaned in close, his breath like fire on her skin. _"What did you do?"_

* * *

A/N: Well shit guys, it couldn't be all rainbows and unicorns forever. Did I mention that this story might contain character death?

Please review. Seriously - I NEED to know what you guys think about this one :D


	16. Fatal Attraction

**A/N****:** _**BREE AND AQUAQUEEN! Y U NO LOG IN?**_ You keep writing me these damn monster-essays for reviews and I can't even PM you to gush about how much I love you guys for it. I hope you like PDA, because I'm saying it right here: I freaking love you two!

And that goes for all you guest reviewers – you guys are awesome.

But seriously guys – you got me to the first page! I've been dreaming of this since they put in that 'search by review' function! And you guys made it happen! I love you all so freaking much! I feel like I could seriously pull a Halle Berry at the Oscars here *sobs discreetly*

Clearly I need to abuse Orihime more often because the response for the last chapter was just ridiculously freaking sweet. Keep that shit up and I promise to ignore my family and friends and spend my days writing for you crazy kids xD

And I'm so happy that most of you enjoyed the more…intellectual aspects of chapter 15. I'll admit, I'm usually THAT girl at the party. You know - the one who gets her friend to bring her drinks all night because she's stuck in a dark corner discussing the meaning of life with a group of people that grow decidedly more haggard as the night wears on, while said friend who is undoubtedly more cool is headbanging on the dancefloor with some giant bearded metalheads? Yeah, that girl. So I'm glad my generous philosophical saturation isn't putting too many people off :P

And I think you're all about to be rewarded for your patience. Hehe.

**Fatal Attraction:**

* * *

For a moment, they seemed frozen in a deadly tableau.

The air was static and silent but for her breathing.

The ornate chandelier over the dining table was the only source of light, sending a soft yellow glow that was likely meant to emulate candlelit dinners. In the current atmosphere, it only served to make eerie shadows play over everything.

Fine motes of dust drifted visibly in the air, as if their confrontation had stirred every atom in the room to life.

The circle of light faded outwards before tentatively meeting the blackness, only marginally illuminating the kitchen and spiral stairs. It died away just short of Ulquiorra's heels, as if he carried his own personal darkness with him, forcing her eyes to adjust to the gloom.

His hand felt like the only stable thing left in the world. It pushed against her upper body, trapping her and supporting her all at once. His fingers applied the lightest amount of pressure into the tight band of muscle in her shoulder, making her neck straighten up and back until she was facing him squarely, her head resting limply against the wall behind her.

Her gaze was drawn to the blood.

The laceration was deep, and the split skin had parted like a grotesque pair of startled lips, revealing the bright crimson, glistening fatty tissue beneath. Running from the side of his nose to the top of his ear, it stood out unnaturally red against Ulquiorra's pallid flesh – like lava flowing through snow. Beyond her appall, some part of her was shocked to find that beneath all that white skin, his veins didn't flow translucent.

Blood and plasma seeped liberally, falling in jagged, uneven trails. It fell past the curve of his jaw, dainty streams flowing down his neck and dripping off his chin to stain his white button-up. Long, black strands of hair clung to the side of his face, curled and matted by the gore.

_Her will_ had done that. She may as well have taken the tip of her finger and gouged him open herself. She had never before done that much damage to _anyone_. Pride warred with disgust and lost.

"Ulquiorra," she began, unable to tear herself away from the blood, "I swear it's not what you think - "

She cut off with a flinch at the decisive crunch that echoed around the apartment, more abrasive and frightening to the silence than any scream of fury. Ulquiorra had crushed the cellphone between his fingers. He elegantly shook the bits of metal and plastic free and then slowly, deliberately placed his hand beside her head, his palm meeting the wall with a remarkably tempered touch given the look on his face.

She was finally able to meet his eyes and they _burned_.

There was something about the luminous, toxic green glow that seemed to give off a light of their own. His slit pupils had elongated and widened in the gloom, putting her in mind of writhing, poisonous snakes, tightening their grip on her limbs and paralyzing her with their cruel bites.

How had she ever thought this man expressionless?

His lips were pulled taut against an increasingly tight jaw in a display of dominant disapproval that could only be described as purely masculine. His brow had lowered into a seething frown, narrowing his gaze. His nostrils flared slightly as a hot, annoyed huff of air left him and ruffled her hair.

"Orihime," he warned, passionless and yet blazing. Commanding her not to screw with him.

Her name on his lips, said with such withheld emotion, made her shrink back slightly, knees trembling. Her hands pushed back against the wall behind her as if trying to find a way through the solid brick. Something was scorching her from the inside, a heated flush that started as a not entirely unpleasant, but somehow metallic twist in her belly before spreading hot and pink through her extremities. It was something _more_ than fear, something completely out of place. Her lips suddenly felt incredibly dry and she flicked her tongue over them in an absentminded swipe. Ulquiorra's eyes darted down at the sight.

They were both suddenly very alert to her dishevelled state of dress. Her hair was tousled around her in a chaotic halo of colour, sticking to her tear stained cheeks and clinging to the thin sheen of sweat on her neck. Her dress fell off of one dainty shoulder, exposing milky breasts straining against their delicate confinements, and the dramatic curve of her waist. The line of her underwear beneath her fear-tightened stomach was only just visible before the last remaining buttons began working together to save her last shreds of modesty. Through the pink lace of her bra, her hardened nipples spoke of something more than the cold air. Orihime couldn't tell if Ulquiorra was aware of himself as he leaned closer, remorselessly invading her personal space. There was something foreign about him in that moment. Something that made her think of sweat and fast, shallow breaths.

His hand slid up the wall beside her, sliding through stray, silky strands of sunset hair and tugging mildly on her scalp, giving him room to step closer. He seemed to tower over her with only a few inches of height. His digits briefly squeezed over the skin on her shoulder before smoothly releasing her and gliding feather-light down her arm. His thumb gently swiped at the delicate skin of her wrist before his palm came to rest against her naked belly. His eyes flickered down to her mouth as a breathless gasp fell from her lips, and she could swear she saw his otherworldly pupils dilate.

That hand could rip her guts out, but that was the furthest thought from her mind.

Calloused and cold, his fingers slid over her vulnerable stomach, coming to rest at her hip, which he gripped firmly. It was an act that 200 000 years of instinct couldn't ignore, an act that reminded the most primal, womanly part of her that before her was, despite everything else, a red blooded male.

A final step forward and his hard chest met hers, brushing lightly over the sensitive nubs straining against the fabric of her bra. His feathery mane fell forward, sliding with the barest murmur of sound over his shoulders to frame his bloodied face in inky blackness and meet her cheeks in the softest of touches.

She must have hit her even head harder than she'd thought, because she was suddenly certain he would kiss her. Fear and arousal churned within her, making her heart stutter uncertainly. He was leaning down, the tip of his nose brushing against hers, stealing the very air from her lungs.

The twitching of her fingers was all the warning either of them had before her panicked hand swept up and met his gory cheek in a hot, wet slap that resonated through the air.

Ulquiorra's head turned, forced against his own arm, and a low hiss of pain escaped through his gritted teeth. His fingers dug into her hip in retaliation, and Orihime pushed against his chest with her bloodied hand. Her breath came in thin gasps but her eyes had hardened in sudden anger.

How could he attack her – _hurt her_ – and then make her feel this way? It was too cruel. _He_ was too cruel.

Twin emerald orbs seething with annoyance met her defiant gaze. "Woman – " he began in a low, deadly tone, but Orihime cut him off.

"_No," _she said firmly, though she hated how she sounded like a petulant child refusing to adhere to bed time, "You don't get to do this to me, Ulquiorra. Not after what you did. Just stop it."

His eyes scorched. She could actually _see_ his muscles coiling, and for a terrifying moment she was certain he would strike her. Her head twisted to the side, eyes squeezing shut. She trembled fiercely, still uselessly trying to push him away.

His hand released her hip without warning and she heard him inhale deeply. The whisper of his fingers sliding over the wall beside her ear, and the crunch of his shoes as he stepped over the plastic phone fragments and backed away from her, seemed intolerably loud in the silence. Fresh air seemed to rush into the space that he had occupied, pebbling her bare flesh and raising her hairs. Without his stifling presence, she felt as if the iron band constricting her ribs had fallen away, and sweet oxygen filled her with a desperate gasp. She peered at him tentatively, slowly bunching her dress closed with her unsullied hand in an attempt to reclaim a measure of dignity.

Ulquiorra stopped a few feet away and braced one hand over the back of a dining room chair, lowering his head slightly and glaring at her from an angle. At some point, his other hand had found its way to his pocket. Under the gentle light, his blood shone with even more terrible brilliance, now smeared from her touch. The heat in his gaze was gone, leaving her feeling incredibly cold.

She suddenly knew – with her first _true_ experience of womanly intuition – that whatever road they had been heading down moments ago was now gone. With almost no physical change, she knew the Ulquiorra before her now to be an entirely different beast to the one before. He regarded her with cool, unfriendly eyes and said, "Clearly I have been too lenient with you."

Orihime stiffened. Part of her wanted to rage against this statement – she wasn't some child to be punished or reigned in! – but she held herself in check. She was worse than a child to him. She was a prisoner. A possession. And she had already gotten away with injuring him and slapping the wound tonight. She sensed that he wouldn't tolerate any more rebellion. "I can explain," she said, impressing herself with how steady her voice was.

He turned to face her more fully, leaning back against the dining table and crossing his ankles. His brow lowered and he stared moodily at her. "I highly doubt you could have an innocent reason for contacting Ishida Uryuu."

Her eyes widened and her stomach plummeted. "How did you know?" she breathed.

Ulquiorra closed his eyes briefly, as if scoffing. "I make it a habit to know my enemies, and that includes the various ways of contacting them." It was more than slightly creepy that he knew Ishida-kun's number offhand. The emerald orbs flashed open again and he said quietly, "What did you tell him?"

Orihime didn't like it when Ulquiorra got quiet. While Grimmjow hollered his anger for the world to hear, Ulquiorra spoke softly, directing his ire with precision and deadliness. "Nothing," she said truthfully, "He didn't pick up."

Ulquiorra seemed to search her face for a lie. She leaned against the wall dejectedly. He would either believe her or he wouldn't. Apparently it was the former, for his frown relaxed.

Almost immediately it reappeared. "It makes no difference, woman, the Quincy is no simpleton. The moment he lays eyes on that number he will research the area code. I'll be surprised if he doesn't decide to come investigating." He glowered at her inimically. "You have seriously inconvenienced me."

Orihime did her best not to cower. Her instinct was to apologize, but her pride wouldn't allow it. She refused to be sorry for trying to let her friends know she was okay. If he had left her alone to live her life in peace, he wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place. She raised her chin a notch, meeting his eyes stubbornly. She wouldn't bother to defend herself – she had done nothing wrong. If he decided to '_punish_' her for it…

She felt his blood congealing as she curled her hand into a defiant fist.

His eyes narrowed at the unapologetic look on her face. "I'll admit," he purred unkindly, "I'm impressed." Orihime flinched. He was toying with her again, she could see it in his eyes. Why was he being so malicious? "I once again underestimated you. I never would have guessed you'd be willing to place your friends in our way. Or that you'd be willing to expose us to the Soul Society's mercy."

Orihime sucked in her breath and shook her head frantically, stepping forward despite herself. "What? No! I never wanted any of that! I was only going to let them know that I'm okay and that they don't need to worry!"

She cut herself off, gritting her teeth. He had put her on the defensive despite herself.

Ulquiorra closed his eyes again, "I see," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, as if _he_ was the one whose head had been smashed into a brick wall. "You meant no harm, you're simply a naïve fool. Did you honestly believe that they would take you on your word? Or even if they did, that they would accept it?"

Her shoulders drooped. She hadn't really thought that part through. All she had wanted was to allay some of the worry that they would surely be feeling after her disappearance. But would hearing her voice again really have changed anything, even if she had done her best to convince them that she was alright? Would they really have given up on her after one phone call? "I didn't think about that," she whispered ashamedly.

"No," he confirmed sternly, lowering his hand from his face and peering at her without sympathy. "You didn't. And now I must decide how to deal with your mess."

She shuddered at the silence that followed his words. She had screwed up. The thought that Ulquiorra Schiffer, of all people, might have the moral high ground against her left a sour taste in her mouth. She could literally _feel_ the bruises forming around her neck, and the back of her head and upper back ached like no tomorrow…but she seemed to have actually come out _better off than him_ in that little encounter. _She had gouged open his face._

And, as it turned out, she had risked all of their lives by trying to make that call – Ishida-kun would never have listened, and would probably have come charging down to find her. Why had she not considered that he would figure out the area code? Kurosaki-kun would undoubtedly come with and faced Ulquiorra again.

Had she just singlehandedly almost gotten Ulquiorra and Grimmjow killed?

Oh sure, she could still say that it was Ulquiorra's fault for being a no good kidnapper, but hadn't she already made up her mind to stay with him for a while regardless? Hadn't she already decided that he was sort of her friend?

She couldn't believe it. She was the bad guy in this.

"I'm so sorry, Ulquiorra," she tried to keep the emotion out of her voice with limited success, "I never meant to put you guys in danger."

"Fortunately for you, I believe you," he said dryly, pushing off from the table with a quiet huff. He approached her steadily, and she remained still, staring down at the ground. She expected he would hurt her more and she had lost the will to defend herself. She was an idiot.

But the fingers that took her jaw were gentle, and Ulquiorra tilted her head, staring at her neck with unfathomable eyes. She wondered if bruises had formed already and watched him curiously. Did those little furrows between his eyebrows mean he was remorseful? Or just irritated?

She certainly felt guilty about carving into him with Tsubaki. Ulquiorra was _not_ a pretty sight right now. "Sorry about your face," she muttered as he released her jaw, "And for slapping you..."

She barely stopped herself from adding '_again_'.

He turned around with an ambiguous, "Hn."

Orihime wanted to fill the awkward silence as he walked away, but was saved the trouble. Ulquiorra's own phone – she was sure would never be able to look at one without flinching again – gave a chirpy beep and he came to a halt, pulling it from the pocket of his black slacks. With a graceful flick of his wrist the phone snapped open, and she fidgeted in place as he did something with it.

He snapped the phone shut a moment later and pocketed it, carrying on his way and wandering leisurely up the stairs. She watched his slender legs disappear out of sight with a small frown. Was that it? Light spilled down the stairs a second later – he had obviously flipped the upstairs light – and she sank to the floor.

Clutching her dress to her with one hand, she stared down at the other. Ulquiorra's blood was smeared liberally over her skin. It was a vile sight that made her lips tremble and tears threaten to fill her eyes. She reigned her emotions in with a generous shudder, letting her eyes fall closed. She wasn't so far gone that she felt she _deserved_ to be hurt, but Ulquiorra's behaviour was nonetheless baffling.

Why had he attacked her with such forceful intent, only to abandon his anger as suddenly as it had come? He had been so violent…she had thought he might…

But then he had almost kissed her…

She froze, eyes springing open.

Ulquiorra had almost kissed her.

And she had almost, despite everything, wanted to let him do it. What was _wrong_ with her?

Orihime knew that many people considered her naive. Her reputation of innocence was one that Tatsuki-chan advocated whole-heartedly and with gusto. When any of her other friends brought up sex, she was the one they all looked at with half protective, half condescending smiles. They saw her as child-like, and they enjoyed that image of her.

The fact was though that she had been an independent young adult since her brother's death, with more than enough private time and internet access to be fully clued up on things that would make even her most outspoken female friends blush scandalously. While it was true that her research had been spurred more often by curiosity than any perverted intentions, puberty had released in her exactly the same hormonal urges as any other girl. She knew the wonders of intimate self-exploration, and if it weren't for the fact that Tatsuki-chan would have an immediate aneurysm, she would have been more than happy to shamelessly discuss such things with her girlfriends.

But she had never thought of herself as some freaky sexual deviant that would be awakened by being threatened and shoved against a wall. She _wasn't_ – she _didn't_ enjoy pain or abuse or any of that rubbish. That was precisely why she had slapped Ulquiorra away.

Yet, it spite of that, she had been almost _excruciatingly_ turned on.

And it terrified her.

It terrified her because she had never experienced it before. Her crush on Kurosaki-kun, while potent in a heart-wrenching sense, had never elicited this kind of physical reaction from her. She had craved his attention, imagined him holding her, maybe even kissing her - and the thought had brought her pure bliss. But even alone in bed, when her breath became laboured and her fingers worked frantically to bring her to completion, she had never been able to fantasize about him. It would have been like...violating him, somehow. Even thinking about it made her feel dirty.

So the fact that it was _Ulquiorra's_ fingers brushing against her skin that had sparked an insistent and tantalizing throbbing between her legs left her reeling. Her body had come alive in the most primal way under the most unpleasant of circumstances and it was _Ulquiorra_, not Kurosaki-kun, who was making lewd thoughts race unbidden through her mind. Her imagination turned on her with a vengeance and she let out a tiny, choked whimper at the insane impulses assaulting her.

It was wrong for her to feel this way. Never mind that he had violently assaulted her - it was _Ulquiorra for God's sake!_

It wasn't that he wasn't attractive – she could freely admit that he was downright beautiful, in a totally masculine way. But that didn't mean much considering that most of her male friends were good looking. She was predominantly concerned with what lay on the _inside_ of her romantic interests.

And while Ulquiorra was funny in a dry sort of way, and while she enjoyed his company most of the time, he was also moody, taciturn and cruel. She could confidently say that she didn't have a bad boy fetish. She liked _nice guys_, and Ulquiorra was _not_ a nice guy. He could be surprisingly sweet, sure, but that definitely wasn't his default setting – most of the time it probably wasn't even on purpose! He wasn't her type at _all_, even without all the 'Espada who killed the love of her life' drama added on.

_So why, oh why were her panties so wet?_

Her logical mind was still trying to beat her hormones into submission when she heard his footsteps returning. She pulled herself to her feet, not wanting him to find her in the same spot on the floor like some pathetic damsel in distress. She began casually gathering her buttons from off the floor.

She _had _fantasized about having her clothes ripped off by the right man…or at the very least a man that hadn't just been strangling her.

She peered through her lashes as his legs came into view followed by the rest of him and straightened up with a jolt at the sight of what he held in his hands.

Her brain went to a dirty place faster than she could have said 'kinky'. "Wait, please," she protested, backing away slowly. He ignored her and advanced without mercy.

"I have an errand to run, and I no longer trust you to behave yourself," he said firmly, "So you're going to sit still and wait for my return."

He seized her arm, paying no heed to his blood on her hand, and Orihime flinched at the finality of the metallic click that followed.

Why on earth did Ulquiorra own a set of handcuffs?

* * *

Hueco Mundo was a peaceful respite for those with power. Grimmjow far preferred the rolling dunes and eternal night sky to the overly loud, overly colourful World of the Living. He loved the simplicity of his world – eat or be eaten.

Right now, he was doing neither. Sprawled casually in the sand, with his elbows on his knees, his heavily lidded eyes kept a silent vigil over his companion's defenceless form. Neliel had yet to wake up, and Grimmjow had taken the opportunity to steal some alone time. His gigai lay discarded on the sand while he continued to enjoy being in his own skin.

Occasionally, his eyes would stray to the gigai housing the third Espada and carefully examine the dark bruises and shallow cuts marring her attractive features. He didn't think she looked too bad – there was something to be said for a woman who wasn't afraid to get a little roughed up in her pursuit for power. He respected her for never once asking him to relent.

She had trusted him not to go too far.

His lip curled in displeasure. He'd probably have to beat that foolish, misplaced trust out of her at some point. There was no way she'd ever reclaim her power if she didn't fear for her life. One day, he would go for the kill. If she made it out alive then he'd be done with her.

If she didn't…well, same thing really.

But for now, he would simply make sure that her pretty face didn't get devoured by some lucky wandering hollow. She'd obviously trusted him to do that too when she'd willingly stepped back into the gigai. He couldn't figure out where she kept the hollow in her. That nice, reliable survival instinct that all hollow shared seemed to be somewhat lacking. She was almost as bad as the princess.

And with that thought, Ulquiorra popped unbidden into his mind. His eyes narrowed broodingly.

What the actual fuck was going on with that guy?

He knew that something big was going down, and Ulquiorra was behind it.

He could feel it in his nuts.

And the only reason Ulquiorra could have for being so damn shifty about revealing his plans was because he thought Grimmjow would become uncooperative if he knew.

Which he might have considered a fair enough concern if things were different, but given their current circumstances it made him _very_ suspicious.

What the hell could Ulquiorra have up his sleeve that could possibly be worse than their current predicament? Grimmjow was all game to fight back, however risky, and surely the pale bastard knew that. So whatever was going on was _worse_ than potential defeat and death, considering how keen he was to keep it secret.

And god damn that son of a bitch but he was curious to find out what. The intrigue alone was probably all that had stopped him from taking off into the desert.

That and his long held desire to watch Ulquiorra bleed out at his feet.

That cheerful image was interrupted by a merry jingle. His eyes darted to his gigai in confusion and he pushed himself to his feet, approaching the devilishly handsome form in the sand. He pulled the source of the offending sound from his gigai's pocket and glared at the noisy rectangular device.

"Yo," he greeted casually, knowing exactly who had called. He had probably summoned the creepy fucker's attention by thinking about him for too long, "How the hell did Szayel hook up the reception in this thing?"

Ulquiorra's voice came over clear as a summer's day and just as aggravating, _"If I ever see him again, I'll be sure to ask," _Grimmjow sneered at the dry tone, "_I need you to return."_

He smirked. "Now why should I do that? I'm having a pretty good time by myself, and it occurs to me that I don't need your freaky ass to survive out here."

He was talking a load of shit, but he couldn't help himself. Ulquiorra was a dimension away and asking for his help, there was literally no better opportunity to torment him.

"_I don't have time to play games with you, Grimmjow. Bring Neliel and watch the woman while I'm gone."_

Grimmjow frowned. "Gone? Gone where?"

"_That doesn't concern you," _Ulquiorra answered flatly,_ "Orihime has proven herself a bigger nuisance than I'd given her credit for and I need you to make sure she behaves."_

"_Orihime?_" Grimmjow leered, "What, you're on first name terms now? She suck you off or something?"

Ulquiorra actually sounded a little annoyed as he said, _"Given that it's in your best interest to make sure that she doesn't contact her numerous and powerful friends, I'm just going to assume you'll be there."_

And with that he hung up. Grimmjow pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it. "Fucking prick," he muttered.

But still…since when did he call the princess by name?

* * *

Uryuu burst into Urahara Shoten like a man possessed and yelled out, "Urahara-san!"

Silence met him as he panted in the doorway, and he crossed the threshold into the candy store with a deep calming breath. He had sprinted over immediately after speaking with Yumiko, and he realized that outright panic might not be the best way to approach the situation.

He wasn't sure how else to process this though.

Orihime had left with two men.

One with blue hair…

And the other with intense green eyes.

"Urahara-san!" he called again as the panic begin to rise anew. The shop was quiet and dim as Uryuu moved further in. He stepped through the first set of tatami doors, sidestepping merchandise along the way. There was usually someone around the surface at all times, even if Urahara was underground.

He peeked into Ichigo's room and frowned. The teen was sleeping peacefully, as usual, but there was no sign of Tessai. The large man was nearly always by Ichigo's side these days.

He hurried over to the trapdoor leading to the massive underground training area, descending the long stairs so fast he was at risk of tripping and tumbling down the whole flight.

He didn't care. He burst into the bright artificial sunlight and called Urahara's name again. He scowled as he got no response, feet pounding over the arid terrain. He could sense the crazy man not far away, so his lack of a response was particularly agitating.

Had Uryuu been less emotional, he might have paid more attention to the fact that there were too many presences to account for just Urahara's employees.

He rounded a large boulder, breath coming a little quicker than he was proud of, and immediately stopped short.

Urahara was there alright, standing protectively in front of his weird adopted kids with Yoruichi and Tessai on either side. They were facing a trio that had Uryuu's mind racing in fear and confusion.

Matsumoto-san, looking more unsure than threatening stood to the right. To the left stood a tall, shrouded figure whose face was hidden beyond his mouth, but whose presence screamed danger.

And these two were flanking the most unsettling appearance of all. His bloodied, weakened state had done nothing to lessen the shit-eating grin and squinty eyes of the silver haired, fox faced bastard Uryuu had assumed dead.

"Fuck," he said. There had never been a more appropriate time.

* * *

**A/N:** So, let's be honest, how many of you thought things would go down that way in the first scene? If you're shocked, imagine how they feel xD

The speedy nature of this update can pretty much entirely be credited to your lovely reviews ^^ Keep them coming, you magnificent little buggers!

Oh, and an interesting bit of trivia - I'm fairly certain that Uryuu's last little paragraph/line thing there was EXACTLY what was going through Ulquiorra's mind earlier in the chapter.

*snickers quietly*


End file.
